Reaganomics
by gorblimey2
Summary: Reagan's a hooker and not a very good one.She's too picky. But when she gets a parttime job as a department secretary for House, things happen. Funny and some angst. Readers like the humor!
1. Chapter 1

**Reaganomics **

**Chapter 1**

**Prostitution 101**

I'm a hooker, a whore, a putain, puta, a lady of the night, tramp, harlot, whatever euphemism that you can think of for a woman who sells her body for money. Okay, I'm not very good at it, but I'm working on it. I haven't been one for long so you'll have to cut me some slack. Sadie told me that the first six months were the hardest and she was right. I find that when I meet a replusive John (and surprisingly, most men who have to pay for sex are) I just can't go through with it. I tried once with a roly poly tire salesman who looked as round as the tires he sold and I ended up climbing out the bathroom window of the hotel room right into a Dempsey Dumpster.

Yet, here I am at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital with a guy that I had actually enjoyed screwing and cheerfully added to my clientele list of _two_. He looked a little like Stephen Colbert and, well, I have a crush on Stephen and that funny ear of his. It had been awhile since I actually found someone I wanted to put on my client list when I met Pete. I'd run a string of them off for one reason or another, mostly cold feet. I've gotten good at making up excuses for why I can't go through with the deed, stumbling on one excuse that really worked well. I was with a rather flatulent draftsman who had gotten my number from my very first trick, a nice older man with a lisp. The flatulent guy was sweet but _ugly_, not to mention smelly, detonating mostly pizza and beer farts for which he constantly apologized. I sat there trying to imagine he was George Clooney, but it wasn't working.

Finally when I sneezed, he politely said, "Bless you."

"You'll have to excuse me but I have the flu. I wouldn't have come tonight but I really needed the money."

Much to my surprise, he couldn't get me out the door fast enough and even gave me 50 dollars _not_ to have sex with him. I was smiling all the way home. I experimented with excuses and learned that also claiming you're just getting over an STD helps dampen a John's desire. "Make sure you wear that rubber, the last guy gave me the clap and I'm still on penicillin." Luckily, I've never really gotten an STD except when I was in college and my boyfriend gave me chlamydia.

The only problem with not havingsex is that I want to build up a clientele, not scare one off. I only had two clients after working the posh bars for the last four months. I was beginning to think I needed a pimp or maybe I should join an escort service, but Sadie told me that the hookers who make the big bucks are the ones who go it alone and find themselves several regulars who pay top dollar. I had two semi-regular guys that seemed to always want it on the same night for some reason. What is it about Wednesdays that makes men so horny?

"Do you have an insurance card?" The nurse asked my favorite client.

Pete looked at me in pain and pointed at his jacket that I was still carrying. I pulled out his wallet and thumbed through photos of his wife and two kids, AMC Movie Fan card, ATM card and finally found the Blue Shield card. I handed it to her and she took one look at me and said, "I take it that you aren't Mrs. Wilkerson?"

"Gee, what gave it away? The short ass lycra skirt, the three inch f#ck-me shoes or the fishnet stockings?" I normally would have been embarrassed showing up anywhere in this outfit but I was beyond being embarassed. My worry over Pete's condition overshadowed any desire on my part to keep my dignity in tact.

It surprised me that Peter Wilkerson had called and asked for a nooner on a Friday. Even more shocking, not only did he want a nooner, but he wanted me to wear a hooker outfit. I was at a loss as to exactly what he thought a hooker should look like so I asked. When he described one of those Parisian women in a red and white striped horizontal tops I almost laughed out loud. I ran to the costume shop, bought a cheap one and changed into it in the hotel room. When he arrived I was decked out as a french whore, his favorite fantasy. I had been in full hooker mode, seductively undoing my garter for him when it hit. Clasping his chest, I thought he was responding to my sexy moves, but then he gasped and fell back. I immediately called the paramedics and rather than leave the John as Sadie had cautioned me to do if something went wrong, I went with him in the ambulance. I just couldn't leave him. Pete kept crying out for me to stay and hold his hand. He's one of my two good paying clients, so I stayed.

I wasn't always a whore...okay, "hooker wannabe." I once wrote Harlequin romance novels and taught creative writing at a community college in California. That's what I did before I went to prison. Now, instead of answering to the dean of the English department, I answer to my probation officer, Kenneth. Ken is okay and he cuts me a lot of slack. Sometimes he just lets me call in rather than attend sessions in his office. And he usually calls me before making his "surprise visits," the required visits to insure that I'm not sitting in my apartment with a cache of AK47's or planning on storming the polls on election day to exercise my non-existent right to vote.

I'm a poor excuse for a felon. I don't have tattoos, didn't get involved in any desperate lesbian love affairs or end up raped by any guards during my four and a half years in the federal penitentiary. Nothing happened that could have advanced my life experience or repertoire for my romance novels. I do have a lot of great felon girlfriends who taught me a lot about life and how to dance like ,Beyonce, not to mention that I went into prison dazed and confused and came out with halogen headlights.

I ended up in Princeton because it was an ivy league town and I convinced myself that I could find a tutoring or teaching job at Princeton or one of the smaller colleges around, but when they saw the word _probation_ on my application, I wasn't even introduced to the Human Resource manager. "We're not hiriing right now but we'll keep your resume" was accompanied with a polite smile and a finger pointing to the door. Even when I printed out the job ad from their website they would inform me that the job was filled or had been pulled. Running out of money, it became clear that I needed another profession. Although I received royalties off of my novels that amounted to about 400 dollars a month, I still need a lot more to keep me afloat.

Desperation took hold as my savings, the little that I had hidden from the feds before I went into prison, dwindled. I couldn't ask for money from relatives, because most of them had nothing. Although my mom had died while I was in prison, she didn't have anything left to leave me after taking out a second mortgage on the house to pay for my attorney fees. I had begged her not to burden herself; I was going to take my chances with the court appointed Federal Defender. But my mom said, "No way" and hired the best attorney she could afford. Granted, I'm grateful she did hire him because he managed to get the charges reduced which meant that instead of 10 years, I got 5, eligible for parole in 4 ½. I behaved and so I managed to get out on probation for good behavior.

I had been such an idiot. All my life, at least until I ended up in prison, I had been a romantic and it had finally been my undoing. Despite watching all those television shows and even the Bridget Jones sequel, I didn't see it coming. So when I met Robert Jakes I was sure I had met "_The One_." It had been a worldwind romance. He smelled expensive, dressed immaculately and, best of all, told me he loved me and wanted to marry me on our second date. I was bowled over. Two weeks later we took off to Ecuador on a short vacation. Who goes to Ecuador on vacation you ask? I wish I had asked that six years ago. On our way home there was a "screw up" (according to Robert) in flight reservations and Robert told me to go ahead back to the States with the luggage, he would catch the next flight. Yeah, I know YOU can see it coming, but I was gullible and in love. The 250 grams of pure cocaine in our suitcase, of which I knew nothing, sent those damn beagles at customs into a frenzy. I'm sure you're surprised to learn that Robert Jakes never made it back to Los Angeles to help defend my honor. I knew I was innocent, my mom knew I was innocent and the drunk in my jail cell knew it too. For some reason we were the only three committed to my innocense. Not even my lawyer believed me, he had seen the Bridget Jones sequel too and thought I had pinched the idea from the movie.

So that's how I ended up here in PPTH with my John. Pete was taken to a room where they could run some tests. I had been with him the whole way and felt I could leave without feeling guilty. "Pete, I have to go. Your wife has your power of attorney and they just called her. I don't want to be here when she arrives. Ok?"

An orange and blue oxygen mask was attached at Pete's ears which was apparently working because he was a much healthier pink. He nodded yes and then lifted the mask to ask, "Next week?"

"Sure sweetie." I blew him a kiss and scooted out the door. Someone was asking for him at the charge desk so I ducked into the stairs and came out on the fourth floor. I thought I was home clear but the elevator door opened about thirty feet in front of me and the woman in the photos, Pete's wife, got out! They must have sent her up to fill out some papers in the accounting department. I panicked, ducking through glass doors to get out of her sight. At first my concern was monitoring Pete's wife, but then I realized after my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room that I was in someones office and there was a man behind a desk concentrating on whatever was on his desk. I couldn't go outside yet, Pete's wife was right outside the door asking someone for directions.

The man at the desk sighed, put down his pen and said, "Alright tell me about..." He stopped in mid-sentence as he finally looked at me, his head snapping back. "I told them young and nubile but wild and kinky will work too. What's your name?"

I wondered if I should give him my hooker name or my real one? I decided on the real one, "Reagan Grogan."

He picked up the phone and dialed. I was sure he was going to call security but he didn't, instead he said into the receiver, "I'll take the last one you sent me, Reagan Grogan. Yeah, okay." He put the phone down, smiled slyly and shook his head like he needed to wake up. "Go back down to human resources and see Sarah to fill out your forms. You start Monday at 10:00 a.m."

"Monday? Start?" I was confused.

But he was no longer interested in me. Looking down at his desk again, he waved his hand at me. "Shoo, skoot, skiddadle. I have work to do." I had been dismissed.

I walked out the door and looked back at the doors marked, "Gregory House, M.D., Diagnostics." I decided to go see what I had just been hired to do. I took the elevator to the first floor and found my way to Human Resources.

The outfit turned a lot of heads but I kept my chin up and assumed my battle position as I approached the counter. "I'm here to see Sarah," I said as I took a defiant posture, shoulders back, nose in the air. The young Hispanic girl disappeared quickly into the back. She returned and opened the counter gate for me to follow her.

Sarah was a middle aged woman with a faint beard and hearty laugh which she exercised when she saw me. "I should have known. I sent him four qualified girls this morning and he turned them all down. How did you find out about the job?"

I didn't want to say that I had been ducking a John's wife so I said, "I ran into him in the hall."

"That makes sense. Hiring you would be a House thing to do. Can you even type?"

"Yes, of course. Can you tell me a little more about the job?"

"He needs a part-time secretary- more of a Girl Friday. It's four hours a day Monday through Friday, but you do get benefits. It's 20 an hour. You'll do whatever he asks you to do but I have to warn you, he's odd and abrasive." She sat back and while shaking her head said, "Something tells me from your outfit that you can handle that. Do you want the job?"

I quickly did the math, 400 a week plus my 400 a month royalties would give me about 2,000 a month. I could just barely keep my head afloat on that. If I pulled a few tricks a week it would give me another 1600 a month and I could be comfortable on that. Plus benefits! "Yes, I'd love the job."

"Oh sweetie, I don't think you know what you're in for...but it's your funeral."

**Chapter 2 **

**You Can't Always Get What You Want**

House had been pissed at Cuddy and the Board of Directors. A downturn in revenues had sent the Board back to the drawing board where they reviewed numerous ways to make more money. A decision was made that, in order to capitalize on House's reputation in diagnostics, PPTH needed to promote House's department more. So they began to enforce his contract, or at least the provisions that hadn't been enforced his first ten years at PPTH, which said that House either had to teach a class or draft a minimum of four papers a year to submit to the New England Journal of Medicine or other approved medical journals. Since classes had been in session for a month, House was being forced to write articles, the first to be submitted for consideration by June 1st.

Almost simultaneously with this edict, Dr. Masters, citing gender discrimination, refused to be House's high paid secretary and demanded that one of the male Fellows, either Drs. Chase, Taub or Foreman take over the clerical duties. House informed the Dean of Medicine, Lisa Cuddy, that he would not be able to write the articles because he had no one to help him type them. Much to his chagrin, Cuddy authorized a part-time secretary for House and his department.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask for one before." Most of the departments either had a nurse or clerical staff that handled the daily paperwork of the department.

House was disappointed. He was hoping to get out of the articles altogether. But, he wasn't going to look a gift-horse in the mouth so he went to H.R. and made his demands, "I want her to be 20-26, brunette, pouty lips, single, thin, sexy and well-endowed. Oh, and no kids."

Sarah tried desperately to not laugh. She knew when the position opened up that trying to find him someone without breaking all the labor laws would be challenging and she was right.

Sarah had set the interviews for a Friday, meaning House couldn't sleep in. It had been a long morning, with a tedious parade of young, vacant women walking through his office like _Stepford_ Secretaries. The first was young and pretty but so bland and monotonous that House started yawning half way through her recital of her prior employment. "I can type 72 word per minutes and I know Excel, Word, Word Perfect, Presentation...

"Blah, blah, blah...yadda yadda yadda..." House shook his head. "Boring. Goodbye."

"But Dr. House, I thought you needed a secretary with good skills and that's me."

"When I want to commit suicide by a slow boring death I'll call you. Bye."

The next one that sat down was also in her early twenties. When he looked up he snickered, "What, did you wrestle my mother out of her clothes?" The girl left within four minutes, not bothering to call Sarah to let her know how the interview went.

The third was in her fifties. Within five minutes, Sarah got a phone call. "I told you young and nubile, not old and putrid."

"Screw you House, I have to send you all qualified applicants no matter what age, ethnicity or ability to handle your abuse. So don't call me with your whining, just interview the applicants." Hanging up the phone, she acknowledged to herself that the morning had gone as well as could be expected. Sarah had decided that getting someone approved by House would be a war of attrition, wading through interviews until he finally got bored with the game and hired someone.

House had just returned from lunching with his best friend, Dr. James Wilson, and was concentrating on handicapping baseball games, when he heard the door to his office open. He could feel the presence of a human standing a few feet in front of him but was so certain that the new applicant would not be to his liking that he didn't look up right away. Finally putting his pen down, he said, "Alright tell me about..." His first glimpse of her stunned him. Standing in front of him was a woman who looked like a Goth French hooker...if there was such a thing. She had on an off the shoulder red and white striped lycra top, a wide red plastic belt, a black lycra mini-skirt, black fishnet stockings with the tops of her garters showing. Topping it off were the four inch spike heels. Her hair was pinned up in a dissheveled chignon and heavy black eyeliner was smeared around her eyes and down her cheek making her look like a character from _A Nightmare Before Christmas _that had just come off a bender and was in desperate need of sleep.

Sitting back, he continued to evaluate her. Average figure, nice breasts, well sculpted legs. It was her face he had trouble figuring out. With the smeared makeup, she looked comical, although, from what he could tell, her features weren't grotesque in any way. The honey blond hair appeared to be natural and was streaked with lighter shades of almost platinum blond. The woman was a little on the older side for what he was looking for, maybe early to mid-thirties, but she was perfect in that garb. She had probably been sent by Cuddy as a joke. But even if she hadn't, it would be a great joke on Cuddy if he hired her. So House sent her down to Human Resources to finish the hiring process, smiling to himself as he did. There would soon be another warm body under his dominion to torment.

At five that evening, James Wilson swung by to see if House might like to go out for a drink. Driving to the local dive, he asked, "How's the interviewing going?"

"Done, hired one today."

"Really? At lunch you said that they all read like the back of a box of All Bran?"

"This one read like the back of a box of Count Chokula. I think she's a Goth Tart."

Wilson looked confused. "I'm afraid to ask what a Goth Tart looks like?"

"Like a Halloween french hooker with really bad makeup."

"That doesn't sound appealing. I thought you wanted something young and nubile, sweet to look at."

"Human Resources' idea of young and nubile is Pollyanna on prozac. Boring. At least Goth chic will stir up the gossip."

"What's her name? Elvira?"

"Reagan something. I only remembered Reagan because he's dead and she's Goth, you know 'the living dead.'" House smiled and raised his glass to Wilson. "To Goth Tarts."

**Chapter 3 **

**Getting My Sea Legs**

I got home, took one look in the mirror and screamed. "Oh My God!" My heavy black Parisian hooker eyeliner had dissolved in my sweaty haste to get Pete help. I now looked like a Racoon on steroids. The smeared lipstick gave me the added touch of looking like I had eaten my way through fresh road kill.

_Why would anyone hire me looking like this? _The realization that this doctor had hired me on my somewhat demonic looks rather than any real tangible skills unnerved me. _What the hell could be going through his head?_

I decided to spend what little money I had on a work wardrobe. Most of the women at the hospital were wearing trousers and a blouse or scrubs. So I went down to Kmart and went directly to the Jaclyn Smith line of clothes and picked out two pairs of trousers and two blouses that could be mixed and matched. Most of my belongings, at least the ones that had not been seized by the government for my "drug activities," had been stored at my aunt's house in California after my mother's death. I hadn't gone back to see my aunt yet because of the cost. I'd have to save up some money first.

I woke up Monday morning, put some Coco Puffs in a bowl, poured the 1 per cent milk over it and started eating while I read the newspaper. As I rinsed my bowl, I felt a little flash of nervousness. What if I couldn't do the job? Hopefully, Dr. House was a kind man who would show some pity on me if I floundered.

Driving to the hospital, I was filled with great expectations and high hopes. I parked where I was instructed to park and put my new PPTH pass in the window. The walk up to Dr. House's office didn't evoke any responses, not like those I had received on Friday. Opening the door to Dr. House's office with a smile, I found Dr. House sitting at his computer playing a game. Shifting my weight from foot to foot and occasionally picking at my teeth, something I do when I get nervous. I waited and watched as he shot a hole in the head of what looked like a fantasy ninja. I recognized the game, we had played it in the Pen. The time was not wasted as I analyzed my new employer. He had an area on the back of his scalp where his graying brown hair was thin. From the side I noticed that the face was long, the ears were long, the nose was long and I wondered what else might be long? None of this length detracted from the fact that he was damn good looking for his age. The added bonus was that he had killer blue eyes. They seemed bluer today than they were on Friday, or maybe I was just noticing them today. They were a clear blue with a dark blue outer ring, almost like his pupil had on blue eyeliner. He stopped and looked up.

House stood up and eyed me with a puzzled frown. It was only then that I saw him grab a cane. I looked at the cane and then back in his eyes, unfazed. He seemed to know me, but not know me as his eyes slowly undressed me up and down. I figured what's good for the goose is good for the gander, especially since being in the Pen I found that fighting fire with fire is often the best tactic. So I blatantly undressed him with my eyes, lingering on his crotch.

He chuckled and asked, "Are you flirting with me?"

"Now that I've seen you nude in my mind's eye, I'm afraid you don't measure up."

"Who are you?"

"I'm your new Gal Friday, Reagan."

He looked terribly disappointed, "Where's your Goth Tart outfit?"

"Goth Tart?" I couldn't figure out what he meant and then finally I remembered the racoon eyes. "Oh, that was the outfit I was required to wear for my last employer. You really thought I'd wear that to work here?"

"One could hope. I wanted you to scare off the interns and pesky kids."

"Dr. House, I don't need a costume to do that." I smiled. "Where do I begin?"

"When I'm in here you can work at the computer station out there. When I'm not here, you'll be going through my mail and answering it. When I am here, you'll be bringing me my coffee, when I'm not here, you'll be cleaning my coffee cup. When I am here, you can give me a lap dance, when I'm not here, you can give Chase and Foreman a lap dance. Any questions?"

"Who are Chase and Foreman?"

He almost grinned. "You'll see them around, Chase is the yellow Fellow and Foreman is the black Fellow."

"Oh, well do you have anything that you need done right away?"

"Too early for the lap dance, so how about the cup of coffee? Milk and sugar."

I went to the outer room and poured the coffee, stirred in milk and sugar and took it back to him. He continued to play his game as I sat the coffee next to him. He didn't acknowledge me or thank me.

I went back over and looked through the desk in the outer office next to a white board with medical terms scrawled on it. There were documents, journals and odds and ends all over the place. I straightened things out and then realized that there was nothing secretarial for me to do at that moment unless, of course, he had work somewhere on his desk. I started to get up to go ask him when several doctors entered.

The female was very curious. "Can we help you?" She said suspiciously.

"No, not unless you have something secretarial that you want me to do? I'm Dr. House's new secretary."

"Secretary?" She blurted out in disdain, "You mean Chase and Foreman don't have to do what I did? House hired a secretary?"

"I'm not sure I follow you except to say that I was hired to be the clerical help for Dr. House."

She stormed into his office and started to yell. The repartee sounded rather angry and both started gesturing wildly. I could hear her say that it wasn't fair and I heard him say, 'grow up and stop whining, it's not flattering in someone your age.' I looked at the three males in the room, "Does she always get that upset over him? Why don't they just get a room."

They started laughing. "They just might someday." Said the black guy. "I'm Dr. Eric Foreman and this is Dr. Robert Chase and Dr. Taub, we're Fellows under Dr. House."

I broke up laughing and they both looked at each other surprised at my outburst. "I'm sorry but fellows under Dr. House sounds slightly homoerotic wouldn't you say?"

Dr. Chase began laughing but Dr. Foreman remained glum. "I'm Reagan Grogan."

I stuck my hand out. Dr. Chase gave it a hearty up and down and while Dr. Foreman's grip was strong, there wasn't much wagging. "If you have anything for me to do when Dr. House isn't using my services," I stopped and giggled at my own inside joke -wondering why my mind was in the gutter, "feel free to ask."

They both nodded yes and then the upset woman came into the office, took one look at me and stormed out the door.

"Who is that woman?"

"Another Fellow, an medical student, Martha Masters." Said Foreman.

"Oh! You mean Fellow as in apprentice, not as in gender." I started laughing loudly. House came into the office, took a look at me and handed me a tape. He said nothing but turned to Chase and Foreman and said, "Well what are the results?"

They began their medical mumbo jumbo dance and I spaced out. I found a dictation machine but it didn't have any headphones or foot pedal so I trekked down to the administration office where I met Sarah in the hall.

"Sarah, where do I go to get equipment?" I asked.

The look on her face said it all, she had no clue who I was. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Reagan Grogan. You know, the Dark Lord's menial task mistress."

She started laughing, "Oh, I didn't recognize you without the fish net stockings. Down in the basement. The third door to the right after you get off the elevator."

"Thanks." Retrieving the equipment I needed, I optimistically headed back to the second floor, hooked up the transcription equipment and looked at the tape which said, "Hemochromatosis Complications." I put it in and started it, Dr. House's cynical voice booming in my ear.

_"Dear Sir, I am a physician at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and after one day of listening to clinic patients, I have a great need for samples of Xanex to be sent to my office right away so that I might be able to curtail my anxiety in dealing with the whiny masses. It might also help if I doled out Xanex in the waiting room to help curtail the anxiety of my patients. I have to admit that most patients are more anxious after meeting with me, but I still believe that handing each patient a Xanex as they come through the clinic doors would make the patient's visit much easier and would certainly improve the disposition of their doctor. Yours Truly, Gregory House, M.D."_

I obtained the address for the pharmaceutical company and printed out the letter. I can type pretty fast, being a writer, but beyond basic word processing, I'm still learning. I was hoping there would be no need for spread sheets or presentation programs until I had learned them. The hospital was working in Word and I always used Word Perfect, so I was making stupid mistakes and taking much longer than usual to type the damn letter. I handed the printed letter to Dr. House, who signed and handed it back without reading a word of it.

He looked up at me as if I was a child, "Reagan, could you wear something more revealing tomorrow? I hired you because you dressed like a french whore. When you give me that lap dance, I'd at least like to imagine you're Carmen Electra and not my local waitress at the bistro down the street."

I looked at my black gabardine pants and crisp white shirt and realized he was right about the waitress outfit. "Yes, Dr. House." And so began my legacy at PPTH. I tried not to dress conservatively after that. I figured if he hired me to look like a hooker, then I'd give him sexy. I _needed_ this job.

The next day I put on my caramel satin blouse, unbuttoned dow to the edge of my bra and short tight Tiger Stripped skirt with gold chain belt and gold strappy 3 inch open-toed shoes. I had my hair up in a chignon but with curly tendrils coming down. I wore blood red lipstick and a barely noticeable topaz eyeshadow with brown eyeliner and thick mascara. I accented the outfit with long, gold earrings with a small topaz at the end of each earring. I topped it off with my only luxury in the world, a pair of Raybans.

I sauntered in at 9:45 a.m. and as my eyes were hidden behind my dark sunglasses, watched the men watch me. I looked up as I walked through the clinic and saw Dr. House and another doctor with dark hair and lovely deep brown eyes looking down from the second floor balcony. They were talking about me as I slinked through the corridor and made my way up the stairs. Dr. House was still leaning over the rail but he was turned to look at me over his shoulder as I walked around the walkway. I walked up to him, noticed everyone watching me and bent down, whispered in his ear, "Is this what you want?" I continued to the elevator and took it up to the fourth floor. Once in the office, I promptly switched to a pair of loafers in my purse.

There was nothing on my desk so I went into his office and began to work on sorting through the mail and organizing his desk. Among other things, I found porn magazines, a bottle of single malt whiskey that was on it's last legs, a buried photo of a brunette and him holding each other against a beautiful sunset in the background, a harmonica, rubbers (some past their use-by date), and the occasional odd file. There was one drawer that was locked so I thought I'd come back to it later. A drawer lock would be no match for a jailbird like me. Lock picking was another talent I had picked up in the Pen.

I had been in the Dublin, California, Federal Penitentiary. There's only five female federal penitentiaries in the USA. I was sent to one that had a double fence around it but no frothing guards with sniper rifles. It was a low key minimum security prison, one of the things that my lawyer had negotiated (thank you). So I ended up continuing my education while I was incarcerated. I received a doctorate in English, sub-specialty, Creative Writing from Pacific University. I attended classes by webcam or on the internet. Big deal. A felon with a doctorate is like an eighteen year old kid with a high school degree. Whopee.

House walked into his office and, without saying a word, motioned with his thumb for me to get out of his seat. I did but I had a hard time getting by him because he was standing in my way. He smelled good, a cologne similar to Polo, but not Polo, a faint smell of the hospital bathroom soap and a musky smell all his own. "Can I lick you?" I envisioned asking him but of course I held my tongue (no pun intended). I simply let him take my place at the desk. He kept his eyes on me the whole time we exchanged places. I did the same. What a strange man, he must throw a lot of people off balance.

"Did you find anything useful?" he asked.

"Just that according to that one magazine, I can keep my pubic hair soft and manageable by simply using the same hair conditioning on it that I do on my head. Oh, and that men like having their balls licked." I paused and gave him my most sincere look. "Is that true?"

"I don't know but if you'd like to lick mine, we could find out...for the sake of science."

"Do you think I would win first place at the Science Fair if I conducted a ball licking experiment? Of course, I'd start with you and your Fellows."

"I'm not sure, I like my balls to be licked by nubile young women who are still young enough to appreciate the fine art of ball licking."

"Or are just too ignorant to be able to tell a good set from a lousy one."

"Bite me."

"Nah, you'd like it." I didn't bat an eye, "Dr. House, is there a service I can provide you right now? Otherwise, Marth Masters has given me a tape to transcribe."

He was about ready to say something about the service I could provide when a woman in her early forties, dark hair and blue eyes waltzed into his office. She took one good look at me and snickered, "They told me, but I didn't believe it."

"What?" he asked defensively.

"That you actually hired a woman who was old enough to grow hair on her legs." She stuck out her hand, "Hi, I'm Lisa Cuddy and I'm the Dean of Medicine. If his sexual badgering or bantering gets too much, come see me."

"Hey, she started it!" House said like a teenager being scolded by the principal."She offered to lick my balls a minute ago."

"If she did I'm sure that you manipulated her into doing it."

I watched them and knew right away that Dr. House wasn't afraid of her. They had some connection between them; what I didn't know. Lisa Cuddy had a firm but not exaggerated hand shake. I'm sure it was developed over years of trying to get it just right. A woman in her position had to do a lot of handshaking or ball licking. Judging from the handshake she wasn't doing a lot of ball licking. She was scrappy and I like that in a woman, you meet a lot of them in the Pen.

I spent the first few weeks in the office trying to figure what I was suppose to do. Frankly, there wasn't much. I started typing Dr. House's notes on patients for their charts, his strange letters (mostly trying to obtain drugs from different pharmaceutical companies) and organizing his calendar, which didn't take much organizing. I started to get bored so I spent a lot of time gossiping with the different departments. When you live in a prison for 4 ½ years, gossip is your main form of entertainment and a great asset for bartering. It had reached an art form in Dublin and I was one of the best gossip artists around. I knew how to extract gossip like a dentist extracts an impacted molar.

My reconnaissance helped in the whore business. I found out who was cheating on whom and who was most likely to want an "arrangement." It wasn't long until I found out that one of the thoracic surgeons, Virgil Thackery, was bored with his sexless marriage. Mildred, his loyal nurse, had a thing for Virgil. She loved him but it wasn't sexual. It was one of those light Harlequin romance loves where they can barely look each other in the eye let alone touch hands or other body parts. In this case the only one who knew they were sharing this romance was Mildred. She told me how Virgil frequently went to the Triumph to drink and forget his troubles. This was divulged with bright eyes swollen with tears of constant sorrow for the man she loved. Of course I wanted to tell her to get a life, but with her looks this life was probably the best she could do. Poor Mildred.

Virgil isn't bad looking. He's short and cute, like a short Jimmy Stewart without the stutter. I thought I could probably tolerate him in bed as long as he didn't do anything too unsavory. Had Sadie been sitting next to me, she would have been egging me on, "Come on, you can land this one. Get out your little black book and add his name right there under 'T'."

I was daydreaming about all of this when I heard a voice in what seemed a far off land, "Earth to nut case. Hellloooo? Are we in the same continuum? Can I get a hello back?"

It was Dr. House waving a hand frantically in front of my face and making silly, adolescent faces. Sometimes I couldn't believe from the way this man acted that he was 52 years old. "Yes, Dr. House, sorry but Uhura patched me into the wrong starship. I'm reading you now."

He tried not to laugh but his eyes crinkled. He said to his team, "You guys need to take lessons from her. She's almost funny." He turned back to me, "You need to go with Chase and break into our patient's house. He'll show you what to do." House said impatiently.

My heart skipped, surely he didn't really mean, "break in." "Break in? You mean, enter without the patient's permission?"

"The patient is out cold so I don't think he'll be giving us the thumbs up."

"But breaking and entering is illegal and carries a sentence of 1-3 years if no one is home. If someone is home it's home invasion and you're looking at 5-7 years if nothing happens, more if we hurt someone when we break in."

They were all looking at me as I rattled off the federal sentencing guidelines and the possible addition to my sentence if my probation was revoked for breaking and entering.

"We weren't planning on hurting anyone." Chase stepped forward, "It's okay, we do it all the time. You won't get caught."

House was frustrated, he didn't have time to be nice or reassuring to me, "For God's Sake, _do your job_ and get that spreading ass out the door."

"My spreading ass is staying put."

"Then you're fired."

"Like hell I am." I knew I couldn't be fired for refusing to commit a criminal act. But I also knew that he'd be pissed off enough to find something for which he could fire me.

Chase stepped in, "Look, Reagan, I have the key to his house and we're trying to sample his things, which we will return and test to see if there is some bacteria, virus or zoonotic reason for his illness, nothing else. Okay?"

He sounded pretty reasonable and I realized that a court probably wouldn't rule it as breaking and entering under these circumstances. Still, I hated giving Greg House what he wanted. I looked at Chase and he seemed so sweet that I decided to give in. I gave House the evil eye and said, "I'll go because Chase is cuter, has nicer hair and only looks at my ass when I'm not looking. Let's go Robert."

House made a face at me as we left.

I enjoyed my time with Chase, he was really very funny and sweet. He did Greg House impressions all afternoon. I suspected that he was probably 32ish, making me about four years older than him. I wondered if he would like to be one of my clients? But then I knew bedding the Fellows would be too close to home. Besides I was picking up vibes that there was something between him and Dr. Thirteen, a former fellow who had transferred to Infectious Diseases for some reason.

"This guy is showing strange symptoms so anything you think might be related to being sick, bag it." he said.

"Like a toothbrush? They make me gag sometimes." I asked.

"Well, a toothbrush would be a possibility but not because it makes you gag, but because it may harbor bacteria. See the difference?"

"Gotcha." I started bagging things. He was working too. "Hey what happened to Dr. Doom's leg? His Mom kick him?"

He started laughing, but then spent a half hour describing what had happened to House's leg. Part of me felt sad for the bastard, but then a part of me knew there was more to his mercurial temperament than a bum leg.

"You know, eight years ago I would have blamed the leg problem for his surly disposition. But you don't get that surly from a bum leg. He's probably always been a prickly pear. I'd say it's a combo of genes, parent problems and then the leg. Has he ever been married?"

"No, but he lived with a lawyer, Stacey Warner, for five years, the girlfriend who authorized the operation."

"What happened to them?"

"I get the impression that he blamed her for the leg and she blamed herself. The relationship imploded."

"Is she the attractive brunette with high plucked eyebrows from about ten years ago?"

"That would be her."

"Is he getting laid?"

"Funny you should ask that, everyone thinks he's doing you. But in answer to your question, he hires hookers."

I almost swallowed my gum. Coughing and spattering, I quipped, "Hookers? Really? Why? He's good looking, single and a doctor. He could ...you know."

"I don't understand it, either. Despite his demeanor he seems to do fine with women. They're always flirting with him. He has an escort service he calls when he needs servicing and they send one over. Apparently, he likes them young and brunette, like Stacy."

"Then why do they think he's doing me?"

"Because you were hired in a rather unconventional outfit and you tend to dress..."

"Yeah, I get it. I do that because he asked me to and it's no sweat off my block if I wear revealing clothes."

"So, are you doing him?"

I started chuckling. It had been over five years since I had experienced an orgasm that wasn't a present to myself. I had forgotten what it felt like to have a man give me one. "No, I'm not doing him. Why would I? I'd never hear the last of it. He'd find a way to torture me with it. So, if everyone says I'm doing him, how good am I?"

"They say you must be a dominatrix to keep House in line."

"Dominatrix?" I started laughing...oh the fodder he just handed me. "Is House into S&M?"

"I think House is an equal opportunity pervert. If it will get his rocks off, he'll sign up."

"You know, something tells me that all that bluster is just smoke. I think he likes his sex like he takes his whiskey, neat."

Chase laughed heartily. "You're a laugh Reagan. Ever thought about going out with me?"

"Sorry Chase, but 'doing House' is a full time job." We both smiled, "Besides, you look like a puppy when you're around Thirteen. I couldn't separate a puppy from it's Mommy so soon."

We went back to the hospital with our stash and I learned later that they found the evil critters on the toothbrush I had bagged! I felt great, like I had solved a crime.

"For Gods sake, we always bag the toothbrush. Get over yourself and remember, you're just a typist." House yelled at me when I did my little victory dance with Chase.

"Alright Scrooge, but remember, be nice, I open your mail."

"Yeah, and I give you a paycheck."

"And I answer your phones."

"I give you your review."

"I fix your coffee." I emphasized with pretend spitting sounds.

"I can arrange to have you fixed."

"I'd like to see you try."

He broke out laughing and so did I.

**Chapter 4**

**House and Wilson Go Hollywood**

"Pick me up at 7:00 tonight."

"Are you wearing a dinner jacket?":

"No, I thought I'd go with that little lavender cocktail dress." House gave Wilson a look of frustration, "Of course I'm wearing a dinner jacket. Hey, bring your sunglasses. We need to look b!tchin' tonight."

House fingered the invitation and smiled. One of his patients had been a short subject producer and had given House a ticket for two to a red-carpet premier. It turned out the premier was for a documentary on Hollywood and the studios. Several A-list actors were scheduled to attend.

House pulled out his tuxedo and looked at it. He was looking forward to tonight, it had been a boring winter except for the addition of Reagan to the staff. This reception might lighten it up. He got dressed, drank a whiskey and put the finishing touches on his bowtie just before he heard the knock on the door. House turned out most of the lights, grabbed his keys and put on his winter coat. Wilson always drove because he had the nicer car. Wilson parked the car using House's blue placard and they started walking towards the theater where the premier was taking place. House elbowed Wilson, "Ahhh," his mouth dropped, "Be still my beating heart, it's Helen Bonham Carter...ohhh, I've had a crush on her since Howard's End. Look, Kirsten Dunst all grown up and without fangs! She sure can suck face upside down."

Wilson was just as excited. "Jake Gyllenhaal."

"Oh...ever since Brokeback Mountain I've cooled on him. I can't stand the thought of him with Heath Ledger. I wanted him to hook up with Randy Quaid."

"Hey, he was just acting."

"Yeah, but I could have gone my whole life without seeing Jake ridin', ropin' and redecoratin'."

House was in line and lurked around while he waited for Helen Bonham Carter to end her television interview. He nonchalantly started to walk next to her up the red carpet. Photos were being taken and what Helen didn't know was that House had position himself so that it appeared they were together. Photos were snapped and eventually several photojournalists asked for House's name. He smiled slyly and gave it to them. Meanwhile, Wilson was inside at the champagne reception talking to Jake Gyllenhaal and Matt Damon. They were having an intellectual discussion regarding the recent oil spill in Alaska. Everyone was talking about how similar it was to the Valdez incident.

House was quite pleased with himself and was making his way over to Wilson when he saw her. Pointing her out to Wilson, he gave House a quizzical look, "What is your secretary doing here?"

"It looks like she's waitressing. Those black trousers and white blouse came in handy."

Reagan saw House and Wilson. Smiling, she walked up to them and asked, "Champagne?"

They both took a glass. "What are you doing here?"

"Moonlighting." She didn't dare tell him that her probation officer had wrangled the job for her. "I need the money." She nodded a goodbye and took off.

A few minutes later, House saw her talking to a man in his mid to late forties. The man was smiling and flirting. Reagan was obviously receptive. House was curious and just a bit put off by the fact that someone was hitting on her. Curious and feeling protective, House made his way over, catching her writing her phone number on the arm of the man as she flipped her hair back with a seductive smile. Turning, she saw House a few feet away. Taking a deep breath, she tried not to look worried.

House took another champagne from her tray. "Is he forcing you to tattoo him with your concentration camp number?"

"Yes, I gave him my number." She was hoping House would say nothing more. The producer was going to call her when the premier was over and have her meet him at his hotel. She could make a lot of money. "Now bugger off."

"He looks like he swings both way, did you ask for an HIV clearance?"

"No, but I did get his secret decoder ring. Leave me alone Dr. House. I'll see you Monday. In the meantime, try to behave. I saw what you did on the red carpet. I'm going to have a ton of calls to respond to on Monday. Just what do you want me to say about Helen Bohham Carter?"

"We're just good friends." He said seriously, wiggling his eyebrows.

Reagan snorted, he could be so funny.

The front rows were saved for the celebrities, but House, using his leg and cane as an excuse, managed to get them seats in the second row, next to Jessica Biel. House gave her a sly, sexy smile when he shuffled down the aisle to his seat. To his great surprise, she returned it. He sat down and smoothed out the crease in his trousers.

"Are you enjoying the evening?" she asked.

"Kind of, but it's typical premier crap." House answered, "Why don't we skip out and have a drink and see where it goes?"

A head bent down from the seat next to her and gave him the evil eye.

Jessica smiled. "This is..." She waited for House to say his name.

"House, Dr. Gregory House." He announced with an extended hand.

"Dr. House, this is my mother, Mrs. Biel."

House said nothing but gave her mother a painful smile and handshake. Things were a little awkward, but House left with an autograph and a cell phone photo of the two of them together. Later, House did hit it off with another, not so well known actress, Marcia Hunt. She'd even given him head in her car. After he zipped up, he was ready to exit the car and go home when she stopped him, gave him her card and told him to call her. As she drove off he saw that she lived in Santa Monica, California, hardly within easy driving distance. He pocketed the card and smiled. It had been a fun evening.

Later that night Reagan's cell phone rang, the caller I.D. showed a California cell phone number; it was him. "Hi."

"Hi, it's Jerry. Well, it's finally over. I'm at the Hyatt, Room 544. How soon can you be here?"

"Thirty minutes."

"Great, see you soon." He hung up.

Driving like a maniac, she sped home and cleaned up, putting on her tiger skirt, caramel blouse, and strappy shoes before flying out the door. She knocked on the door of 544 and he answered in a robe.

"Fiona, come on in." He motioned her in and then went over to pour a drink of wine.

"Nice suite. How was the movie?" She asked.

"It sucked. It came off as a National Enquirer article rather than a serious documentary about the inequities in Hollywood. But, it will go over well with the public and make money. That's what counts." He handed her the wine, "So shall we talk money?"

"Obviously it depends on what you want: 500 for an hour; 1000 for the night; 150 for just a blow job and sorry, but I don't do back-doors."

"Fine. He pulled out his wallet and counted out 1000. "I don't want you jumping up in the middle of the night and running out the door." He put his wine down, "What's the rules on kissing you?"

"No kisses on the mouth, you know, standard stuff."

He pulled out his wallet and counted out another 1000, held it up to her, "An extra 1000 if you let me kiss you on the mouth while we're having sex."

_Oh...wow, that's tempting._ She thought back to Sadie's admonishment, "Don't let the John kiss you on the mouth." _She never really said why_. "Alright." She took the 1000 and pocketed it.

He undid his robe and she could see a rather normal package, nothing special. "You're turn." he said.

Underneath her blouse and skirt was a corset and french cut panties. Turning on the television, Reagan found the music channel and, in keeping with the beat, dropped her skirt, kicked it to the side and then unbuttoned her blouse. She continued to dance in her high heels, swaying, dipping and rubbing herself all over. She slipped her hand suggestively down her skimpy panties, rubbing and grinding for several minutes. When the song was over, he grabbed her, pulled her near and started kissing her breasts and undoing the corset. He smiled when the corset fell to the ground.

"Are those real?" he asked.

"Of course they are, they'd be bigger if they weren't."

"They're beautiful." He nuzzled them and licked them. All night long he complimented her on her body, her laugh, her technique. On his third round, just before he put on a rubber, she gave him a little extra on the deal. Sliding down the sheets, she gave him the _Special Head_, that Sadie taught her.

Jerry's eyes were closed tight. He felt lightheaded from the sensation of her mouth on his organ. Putting the rubber on him, she then bent over so he could take her from behind creating the golden trio, missionary, girl on top and doggy style. In each scenario she moaned and groaned for him, but there was no real sexual pleasure in it for her. She was concentrating solely on him and not what felt good to her. He didn't seem to need for her to pretend to come as long as she gave him verbal sex cues during the act.

When it was over he collapsed onto her and she collapsed down to the bed, giggling. He felt like dead weight. For a moment she was frightened, what if he was dead? After all, one client had a heart attack when he was with her. She quickly turned and noted that he was moving. A sigh of relief escaped from her lips.

"Damn, you're good. That thing with your mouth- I've only had one other hooker do that and unfortunately, she's serving a sentence in jail for operating a brothel. You may have heard about her. She had an international prostitution ring, the Bel Air Madam? Sadie Thompson?"

"Yes, I've heard of her." Reagan smiled at the mention of Sadie's name, "You were her client?"

"Yeah, Sadie only personally serviced a few clients and I was one of them. She made most of her money as a madam. In fact, she made a lot of money, she was good, really good. I miss her."

"I heard she left a void in Los Angeles when she was put away. I've often thought of moving out to California to apply my trade." She smiled at him.

He pulled her into him and held her during the night. This John was romantic, he liked having sex as if it was more than sex. Some men just wanted what was between your legs and others wanted all of you, including the cuddle afterwards. You usually knew which was which because the romantics always paid for the entire night.

In the morning Reagan dressed as he showered and shaved. He came out to the bedroom, still wet from the shower, and watched as she grabbed her purse. He went over to his wallet and pulled out two cards.

"Keep one of the cards and if you're in L.A. call me, please. On the other card, put down your name, your real name, and your phone number. I'll call you when I'm in the area."

She tilted her head sweetly and simply said, "Okay." She left her number and name (real one) and kissed him on the cheek. "See ya."

**Chapter 5**

**Poor Poor Pitiful Me**

"Well, did you get any?" House was making his own coffee while I was drafting a grant proposal for the department.

Dr. Cuddy had given it to me to type and submit. It was poorly phrased as was typical of most professionals. I'm pretty sure most hospitals must use some "Idiot's Guide to Submitting Grants." I improved the wording and sent it on its way.

"Did I get any what?"

He looked frustrated, shaking his head. "Did you get any ass? Did you hook up with that guy? Did you put out? I'd think twice about seeing him again; I'm pretty sure he was bi-sexual or a tranny. But then, maybe that's all you can pull. You know, you have nice legs, maybe if you wore a sack over your head you'd get better offers."

"Why would I want a better offer when I can stare right through that glass and see the man of my dreams." I pointed to his office. "I'm just so turned on by your juggling and that bald spot. Let's not forget your lovable limp and the fact that you're such a fashion plate. I just sit here all day wishing I could be that ball you're always playing with...and I don't mean the one on your desk. I may sleep with others but," I paused and then gave him a sultry look, "you're the man." Then I turned cranky, ""Can I get back to work or do you still need to demonstrate to me why you're still single?"

He shut up and gave me a strange look as if I had turned the tables when he wasn't looking, "I was just wondering if you were going to be in a good mood or not. I figure if you got the big "O" maybe you'd be nicer. And what's with the black? Have you gone Goth again?"

I had gone shopping with my trick money. I had on a new black silk blouse that showed lots of cleavage, a short black pencil skirt, black stockings and 3 inch red stiletto heels. I also had on a red studded collar around my neck. I figured I'd play up the dominatrix gossip. House kept looking at me. Getting up, I went over to him and stared longingly into his big blue eyes. I rubbed the back of my neck and then down my breasts, licking my lips and smoothing my skirt over my hips. I was close enough that I could feel his breath which was quickly becoming irregular. I could smell him and so I knew he could smell me. Staring up into his blue eyes, I could see a little glisten of sweat break out on his forehead. Bewildered, he swallowed hard. I motioned for him to bend down so I could whisper something in his ear. He bent down and I put my mouth so close to his ear that my lips occasionally brushed against him as I whispered. "There's something I've wanted to do since I walked in this morning." I gave just the faintest of smiles and then reached up towards his face slowly and purposefully. He closed his eyes in anticipation of a nice juicy kiss. I plucked a piece of fluff from his hair and then walked to the women's bathroom where I broke into gales of laughter.

That was fun. He thought he could torture me with his tirades and insults. I now knew I could torture right back. We were both pros at what we were doing. What he didn't know was that I had perfected flirtation 101 with Sadie. She knew just how to drive a man wild and she had taught me. Poor pitiful House, I realized I had a cannon and he had a pea shooter.

The team arrived and showed me a photo in US magazine of Helen Bonham Carter walking with Dr. Gregory House. It was taken just when she turned, saw House and his cane and gave him a polite smile. It looked like they knew each other and were intimate. I laughed so hard it hurt. House walked in, saw the photo and smiled at me.

I nodded, "You're good...really. I can't believe that photo."

"Hey, she's hot. It's a shame I had to turn her down, but she smokes like a chimney."

"Yeah, like that would stop you." I said.

I fielded phone calls all day about the photo and had fun with it. I started with, "They're just good friends" and by the end of the day I was telling the reporters, "They aren't prepared to discuss their relationship and where it's going."

It was Friday and I was looking forward to the long Memorial Day weekend. I had decided to take some of my hooker money and go see my old college classmate in New York. House walked into the outer office and, with a sucker in his mouth, said, "I'll need you to come in this weekend to do some typing."

"Typing? I have plans."

He leaned down and with the meanest look he could manage said, "Tough. This article has to be submitted by June 1st or none of us have a job. Capice?"

I sighed and gave him a look of disapproval. "Give it to me, maybe I can get it done tonight."

"Doubtful, this is just tape one. I haven't finished tape two. I'll work on it tonight and see you here tomorrow morning."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Around 2:00 pm I was still pouting when he came in to grab a book off the shelf. He turned and saw my best pouty face. "Oh for God's sake grow up. It's not like you have a lot to do around here anyway. You're basically a carbuncle sucking the money out of this department. You're lucky I hired you. No one else would have."

I jumped to my feet, grabbed my purse out of the desk drawer and said, "Get screwed!" in my best felon voice and started to stomp out of the office. I think he realized the import of what he had just done. Without me, he wouldn't be able to submit his article on time and the board would have his nads. Chase told me that they had been very generous in giving him until June 1st to submit the article so I knew he needed me, they were unlikely to extend his deadline without serious consequences.

He reached out and tried to stop me with his cane but it only ended up tripping me. I stumbled on my 3 inch heels and went flying, catching my head on the edge of the table as I tumbled forward. It happened so fast that I couldn't get my hands up to protect myself from the fall. I then hit the chair and finally the floor. Blood was spurting everywhere from my cut eyebrow, bleeding nose and busted lip.

"Christ!" House hobbled over and kneeled down, rolled me over and saw the blood coming from several cuts. I looked up, gurgling from the blood going down the back of my mouth. I'm sure I must have looked horrified because I could see in his face a mixture of anger, frustration and deep concern.

Martha Masters came in, looked down at me bleeding on the floor and then screamed at House, "What did you do to her?" Without waiting for a response, she ran out to get a wheelchair and a towel. It was Masters who gathered me up, put me in the wheelchair with the towel pressed to my face, and rolled me down to Emergency.

I was in the emergency room when House showed up, looking like a churlish teenager who'd just had his car taken away on prom night. The doctor was sewing up the gash in my eyebrow when House asked, "I guess this means you won't come in this weekend to type up my article?"

I couldn't move my head because of the stitching so I simply said, "Bite me."

The doctor, Geffler, laughed and then looked over at House, snickering.

"What are you looking at? She's the patient, keep your eye on her." House turned back to look at me, "I'll make it up to you...give you some time off next month with pay..."

He was going to say more but Cuddy came rushing in with Masters behind her, looked at me and then laid into House, "You two can't have kinky sex at the office. This S & M thing has to stop."

House shook his head in disbelief, " What have you been smoking?"

"House, everyone's talking about it. You two should know better and if it doesn't stop, I'm firing one of you." She turned towards me, "Looking at the shape she's in, I suspect I'll be firing you, House."

"Dr. Cuddy?" I finally spoke up. "Uh...I don't know where you're getting your info," I paused and looked directly at Masters who I suspected had been the source, "But I'm not doing Dr. House. Come on Dr. Cuddy, look at him. Don't you think I can do better? He's a mess. He drinks too much, looks like he slept in his clothes, snores and has thinning hair. We weren't in some kama sutra position when this happened. Dr. House tripped me with his cane to punish me for not wanting to do his last minute typing."

"_I didn't trip you!_" He turned to Cuddy and was very agitated, "I was trying to stop her from leaving the office. It was an accident."

Cuddy calmed down, giving Masters a disapproving look. "I can see your point Reagan. He isn't much to look at, is he?"

"Hey, I score better looking women than her." House lamented.

"Maybe when you were younger but you're past your sell-by date House. You need to think about repackaging." Cuddy looked at both of us, "You two need to sort this out. There will be no time extensions on your article." She didn't wait for the gobsmacked House to answer. Cuddy turned on her heels and left with Masters following.

"Where did she get the idea that I was screwing you?" House asked.

Dr. Geffler answered for me, "It's all over the hospital. I heard you two were caught in the sleep lab with whips and handcuffs."

I started sniggering, I just couldn't keep it in. Dr. Geffler backed off with the needle to wait until the bout of laughter passed. He started laughing too.

House was agitated, "If we're into S&M, who's the S and who's the M?"

"According to Nurse Brenda, you're the submissive one House. The word is that all your bluster and meanness is a cover for you. In reality you want to be humiliated."

I was doubled up with laughter. House's face contorted into a look of pure bewilderment and anger, "I'm an S or I _would be_ an S if I were into S & M. They can't really think she's the S?" He shook his head, made a tsk noise and left the room.

Geffler turned back to me. "You have him dancing on a tightrope, don't you? I've never seen House so tongue tied."

"Is that really the gossip?"

"Nah, some people think you're the submissive one, but I didn't want him to know that. Don't worry, most of the gossip is that you two are just screwing, no kinky stuff. But with that stud collar, I'm beginning to wonder." He gave me a patient smile and then moved closer with the needled. "Now let me stitch you up."

"We aren't screwing, but I do like to yank his chain."

"I can tell and there's no one who deserves it more."

He was quiet for a few minutes while he stitched me up. When he finished, he smiled again. His cologne smelled like Obsession por Homme. Nice. Not strikingly handsome, he was still pleasant to look at although a touch overweight by maybe ten pounds. But he carried it well on his six foot frame. Geffler looked down at me and said, "Would you like to go out sometime?"

It finally dawned on me that my mouth must be wide opened because he started laughing at me. I hadn't anticipated anyone asking me out. I hadn't been on a date since Ecuador. That was almost six years ago, right after my thirtieth birthday. So many thoughts went through my head at once. Do I want to go out with him? If I do, do I tell him I'm a felon? If I tell him, do I do it now or when we're on the date or when? More importantly, do I tell him that I'm a part-time hooker? Nah, I knew the answer to that one.

I exhaled loudly and gushed, "I think I would." I know I didn't sound very convincing, so I added, "I just haven't dated a lot lately."

"Well, we can start slow. How about dinner in a well lit restaurant frequented by police?"

I giggled. "We don't have to go that slow, but dinner would be nice."

"Tonight?"

"Too fast. I'm going to have to stay with Dr. Dread to get this article typed in time. I was just holding out to see what perks I could get out of him. Tomorrow night?"

"Great. I'll pick you up."

I gave him my address and directions. Ken, my probation officer, had found me the place. There aren't many people who will rent to felons and most rental applications ask if you've ever been convicted of a felony. I was pleased with my new apartment. It was a large studio over a three car garage. It had a kitchenette, a bathroom and then the main room. The landlord charged 450 dollars a month plus utilities, a bargain in Princeton. Most of the housing is snapped up by the students. I was lucky to get this. My landlord is a math teacher at the local high school, a widower named Ralph with a very kind heart.

"What time?"

"7:00 pm. Okay?"

"Great."

I looked in the mirror in the women's restroom and almost screamed. I had a black eye, stitched eyebrow, and split lip. My nose had stopped bleeding but was beginning to get black and blue. I looked horrible. This sucked. I just knew my Johns were going to call and want some nookie. I couldn't meet them like this, it would scare them away. Oh well, I guess I'd have to have the flu this week.

I opened the door to the outer office and Chase made a painful face in response to the bruising on my face. House walked in and Chase looked up, "What the hell did you do to her?" Chase jumped to his feet as if he was going to do something about it.

"Calm down Chase, he meant to use the cane as a barricade and ended up using it as a hook on my ankle. I fell."

House looked sheepish. "Cuddy wants you to fill out these accident forms. She said if you want to take the rest of the day and weekend off you can." He sounded so pitiful that I was both satisfied that he was in pain and sympathetic simultaneously.

I said nothing but went over, picked up the tape, shoved it into the transcriber and sat down. He looked apologetic and wouldn't go away. I took off the headphones, threw them on the desk and yelled, "_What_?"

He stepped back in surprise, "Cuddy said I had to apologize."

"I'm going to transcribe your tapes but you owe me. You're going to give me not one, but two days off during the week whenever I choose and you're going to pay me for those days off, understand?"

He looked embarrassingly at Chase and then back to me, nodding. "yes."

"Oh...and go get me a diet coke." I ordered.

"Screw you." House said and went back into his office.

I chuckled and so did Chase.

"Good try. I thought he just might do it."

"He would have if you hadn't been here. He had to keep that alpha male dominance in the pack."

I started transcribing what had to be the most boring tape in the world. I was looking up half the medical terms or asking Chase what they meant and how to spell them. I was also falling asleep or spacing out. I knew I had to do something. I took a break and then came back to it, transcribing until 7:30 p.m. To give House credit, he stayed the whole time dictating the next tape even though he could have dictated at home. Before I left I handed him a draft of the first tape to correct and he threw it in the trash.

I was shocked, "Don't you want to edit it?"

"I could give a crap. I just have to submit something, it doesn't have to be published. That's why they have editors at the Journal. What time are you coming in tomorrow?"

"Early, about 8:00 a.m."

"Okay." he paused, "How do you feel?"

"My lip feels like a sausage, my eyebrow hurts and I have a huge headache."

"I'm...I'm sorry."

I looked at him, I hadn't expected that. I searched his face to see if he was going to start laughing or if there was any hint of perfidy. But he looked genuinely contrite. "Yeah, well next time that cane comes near me I'm going to shove it up your ass, okay?"

He smiled. "Are you flirting with me?"

I shook my head, smiling to myself, and left.

The next morning I stopped and got a smoothie. Arriving at 8:05, I was surprised to see House at his desk typing on his computer. I walked into his office. "You didn't need to come in. You could have just put the tape on my desk."

"I need to have it in the mail this afternoon."

"I looked at how much tape was left to transcribe. I'll be done by noon if you want to come back around 11:30 a.m."

He nodded and got up, grabbing his cane. "The yellow goes nicely with your top." He was pointing to the bruising which had changed from dark, dark purple to purple and yellow.

"Thanks, I hope my date likes the new color scheme."

He stopped, "Date?"

"Yeah, the emergency doctor asked me out. It's the only good thing that came out of this. He wants to see if I really am a Dominatrix. Could you vouch for me. Maybe show him some whip marks?"

He cocked his head like he wanted to ask a lot of questions but knew I needed to start typing so he kept shut his mouth. I went into the outer office and continued to transcribe the tape. Now that I knew he wasn't going to edit, I felt an obligation to make it sound legible, so I enhanced it, corrected the grammar and in general made sure it was legible. I took my time and was printing it out when House came back with two milkshakes, handing me one. "Chocolate."

"Thanks, I love milkshakes, but I like malts even better.'

"I'll remember that."

"Well, here. Sign it."

He signed on the back page and I produced an envelope already typed and ready to go with the appropriate postage. I put the documents into the envelope and he put out his hand.

I shook my head vigorously. "You think for one minute I trust you to get this into a mail box? Hell, no. I'm taking it over to the post office and posting it."

He shrugged and pulled his hand back. "So where are you going tonight?"

"Disneyland." I said. He looked perturbed so I backed down on the sarcasm. "Out for dinner. I'm not sure. Do you have any plans?" I knew when I asked that he didn't. He didn't go out often. He seemed to stay home and from something Dr. Wilson once said, he spent most of his time drinking, watching television, and playing piano. I had an urge to hug him, he looked so lonely, but then I remembered the bruising of my face and the urge passed. "I've got to go. See you Tuesday."

I got home and there was a call on my voice mail cancelling my Wednesday tryst. I was grateful that it was the John who cancelled instead of me. I still had just two regular clients, Peter and Calvin. But Calvin only used my services once a month. He was much younger than me but he said he liked the "experience" I brought to the bedroom. That made me feel old.

I dressed in my new pink sundress, pink cardigan, white heels and put my hair in a pony tail. I thought I looked a little like a Barbie doll that had been physically abused by Ken. My RayBans helped a little. There was a knock on the door and I opened it. Geffler looked great in a pair of nice navy blue microfiber trousers, a Nautica shirt and brown loafers. He whistled at me. I knew he was just being kind because the whole busted lip and bruises look really did nothing for my appearance.

"If I can just remember that gorgeous face from the first day I saw it a month ago, I bet it looks great with that dress. I know that body is hot."

I blushed. "Thanks..." I went blank. I only knew him as Geffler, Dr. Geffler.

"Ryan."

"I'm so sorry! I just know you by your last name."

"It's okay."

We went to an Asian Fusion restaurant and ate. The conversation was easy and I laughed a lot despite dodging some questions about my past. I made sure I didn't lie. I just didn't want anyone to know about my jaded history. At least not yet.

We got along really well. He was funny, polite and attentive. It wasn't the biting wit that House has; it was more the "ah gosh" kind of funny. When we got back to my place I debated about asking him in but he solved the dilemma for me. At the top of the landing he pulled me around, gave me a very nice first kiss with just a little tongue and then said, "I have to get up early to go deep sea fishing with my buddies down at the shore so I'll say goodnight. I'll call you."

"Thanks for a lovely evening." I said. He went half way down the steps, turned to make sure I got inside safely and then left. "Wow! That was nice and fun." I said to a non-existent companion and then closed the door.

**Chapter 6**

**Things Come to a Head**

June 8th was a rainy day and a busy one for the Diagnostics department. A new patient, who wanted House to personally diagnose her, had just arrived. For the last month she had been having dizzy spells and problems with her balance. House had met her at the celebrity reception. The patient's block-buster science fiction film had just opened that week so her arrival had created some havoc in the department mostly because House already had one patient that was giving him heartburn. Now he had two.

House opened the door to the outer office and started grabbing journals and medical books off the shelves. "The team is busy running tests on the runt, I need you to go down and take a history on the new patient, Marcia Grant."

"Me?" Reagan asked.

House looked around the otherwise empty office and said, "No, Jimmy Hoffa's ghost over there. Here, get her to answer these questions and any others that you think might help." He handed her a patient questionnaire.

Reagan started looking for a pen on her new desk. It pissed her off that they always went missing, the team kept taking them. She was wearing a low cut black shell with a pencil skirt. When she bent over everything up front was in view for House, except her nipples. He was just praying to get a glimpse of her nipples and was tilting his head and squinting when he finally noticed her staring at him. She looked down at the view of her breasts and then straightened up quickly.

"Oh, grow up." She said with disgust.

"Don't blame me, you wear those blouses and flash your breasts. What am I suppose to do, look away?"

"You know, I wouldn't be wearing these clothes if you hadn't ordered me to dress like this when I came here two months ago."

"Thank God."

She grabbed the pen she found and stormed out to a smiling House adjusting his jeans a little. He went back to his office to work on the first patient's files.

Reagan entered the patient's room and was greeted by her manager and her mother. "I'm Reagan Grogan, Dr. House's assistant. I'll be asking you some questions." Reagan looked at the young woman. She had a pair of knockers on her that were obviously fake but otherwise, the rest of her body was all Marcia. She was brunette and according to her answers, she was 26, 5'7" 122 lbs. She was born in Illinois and had no allergies or known exposure to molds. Reagan was asking the questions when Marcia finally interrupted her.

"I want Dr. House to see me. I want him to do the interview."

"Dr. House is with another patient. He wanted me to get your medical history first and then he'll be down."

The actress frowned but kept answering Reagan's questions. Marcia's face lit up as the sliding door opened and House walked in.

"Hello, Greg." Marcia said.

"Hello. Marcia." House walked over and took the questionnaire out of Reagan's hands. He read through it quickly. "When did you finish filming in the Philippines?"

"Just before we met."

He asked her mother and the manager to leave but not Reagan. He went over to Marcia and started to examine her. Reagan had never seen him work before. She was impressed and somewhat amused that he was so serious. Everyone said he was a genius. The fact that he got away with so much attested to that. Regan knew that Cuddy wasn't likely to keep anyone on staff who gave her that much grief unless they were good, really good.

"Greg, you never called me."

"You live in Santa Monica."

"But I come back here all the time to see my mother. I enjoyed our little outing to my car the other night. I hope you did too."

Reagan wasn't surprised. She had heard that House liked them young and nubile. Marcia fit the bill to a T. He finished the examination and looked over at Reagan.

"Get Foreman in here and tell him to run a CSF on her, a catscan, a CB3 and ANA."

"Okay." She went to fetch Foreman, her mind on House. There was something very alpha male about House doing an examination. It made her feel vulnerable and that felt odd. Reagan was rarely submissive. If you're submissive in the Pen then you never get to eat, shower or keep your dignity.

The first patient died. House had diagnosed him but the disease was in the final stages and there was nothing they could do. The actress turned out to have a small tumor resting on her spinal column that was hidden by tissue. She was scheduled for an operation to removed the tumor the following month after she finished filming a pilot. She was in no real danger for the next month so the neurosurgeon cleared her for filming.

Reagan had come back from lunch, picked up the calendar and saw that House had written in a medical seminar for the end of the month but had no details written down. The vertical blinds were pulled in House's office meaning he was probably on the floor sleeping. She burst through the door and saw House in his easy chair with the actress's head in his lap bringing him to climax. He was coming at the same time he saw her standing in the doorway. He had forgotten to lock the second door.

There was nothing he could do at this point but let nature take its course. He moaned and grimaced and tried to give Reagan the evil eye all at the same time. Reagan knew she should leave but she was transfixed. He looked like he was in pain but the moaning and white semen spilling over said otherwise.

He was embarrassed but at the same time seeing her watch them was a turn on. He felt confused.

Reagan finally shrugged and backed out of the room, not sure how she felt. She was amused, a little embarrassed and a little, could it be? She was a little jealous. How strange. She figured the actress was done by now and House was zipping up. Reagan looked at her watch. She had a half hour left on the clock. Convinced that House wouldn't mind if she went home early. It was probably better for them to give it a night before they saw each other again.

When Reagan arrived home, she kicked off ehr shoes and looked over at the phone which was blinking, letting her know that she had voice mail. She was hoping it was Ryan. It had been over a week and he still hadn't called. After what she saw today, she was really hoping that she could get some action. And by action, she wanted a man to to make her come. This dry spell had to end.

The phone call was from Pete. He wanted to meet up with her next Wednesday at the usual hotel. She penciled it into her calendar, Pete, 7, Hyatt. That was it, no more messages. The only conclusion she could come too was that she had read the date with Ryan wrong. He really hadn't found her attractive. Of course with the bruising and busted face she couldn't blame him. Staring into the mirror, Regan could barely see the bruising and with makeup you couldn't see it at all. She ate dinner, watched _The Daily Show_ and went to bed.

The next day she braced herself for House. It was his birthday and she had bought him a book on the famous jazz pianist, Dave Brubeck. Putting it on his desk with his card, she turned to leave only to find him standing, leaning on his cane in front of her. He looked stern and said nothing.

"I need more information on your conference at the end of the month so I can make your reservations and get your cases covered."

He nodded.

"Uh, happy birthday. I put a little something- not much- on your desk." She wanted to tell him that spending 20 dollars on a present was a big thing for her. But she knew that compared to what the doctors earned and could spend on a present, 20 dollars was nothing. She needed to get more clients, it was hard to make ends meet with just two regular guys and the odd overflow from the local escort service.

One of her original tricks had mentioned her name to a local escort service and they had called her one night when they needed a warm body. Reagan came to an arrangement with the owner, Pam. They would call her if they didn't have enough girls to service all of their clients. They expected her to give them a 15 per cent referral fee. They never gave her any of the locals because they didn't want to lose their regular clients to her. They only gave her the out-of-towners, figuring 15 per cent of something was better than turning the business away. She had turned two tricks for them, both nice guys. She left and went to her new desk. Cuddy had purchased a second computer station after the team griped that they didn't have access to the old one when they needed it.

House opened the card and read it. It was funny, causing him to smile. The paper was boring with _Happy Birthday _written all over it in happy letters. He opened the gift and was pleasantly surprised when he saw what it was. He already had the book, it was one of his favorites, but the fact that she had read him well enough to purchase something he liked was a miracle. Cuddy always gave him something that went to the back of his closet and Wilson was smart enough to just ask him what he wanted or simply took him out for a drink. This year House had bought himself a present and was looking forward to receiving it.

They didn't talk much all day even though Reagan tried to act normally. House was guarded and said very little to her. Reagan saw Cuddy come in with a gift and then Masters with a card. Reagan knew that Wilson was taking House out for drinks later but she wondered if House was going to do anything special for his birthday? Today was not the day to ask. Things between them had turned very awkward very quickly.

**Chapter 7**

**Sex and the Single Girl**

I had just watched Cuddy hand the birthday gift to House when I received a call from Moonlight Escort Service. They had several Johns without girls that night. Pamela told me that they had a rash of requests and had originally filled them but two of the girls were sick and one had to go back to Ohio because her brother had died in an auto accident. Pam ran a nice, clean operation and was pretty good about checking out the Johns. Unlike some services, she checked the information the Johns provided before letting her girls meet them. It turned out to be the smart thing to do. There had only been two bad incidents in the fifteen years Pam had been running the service.

"I've got a semi-regular who needs a girl. He calls occasionally, nothing you could set a watch by. But he's a little odd. He usually likes college girls but I think he'll be okay with you. You look young for your age. He doesn't like you to talk. He's kind of a slam, bam, thank you ma'am. Nothing kinky, just in and out in an hour. He's a good tipper if you keep your mouth shut. We'll expect 15 percent and of course, you won't tell him that you're independent, right?"

"No problem."

"He's set the appointment for 9:00pm tonight. Okay?"

"Fine." I took down the address.

I went home and cooked myself a light dinner and debated as to what to wear. If this guy liked them young and wanted to get the deed over with then I would wear trendy clothes that were easy to take off. I picked out a peasant blouse, a flip skirt, no nylons and my nice bra and panties set I bought last week at Marshalls. I tried not to look like a hooker but to look more like a perky college girl, letting my hair hang down with just a headband to keep it off of my face. I put on backless heels and was out the door at 8:30 p.m. Not knowing the city well, I left early. I arrived about ten minutes before nine, but I could see a light on and when I listened at the door, I only heard a television. I straightened my skirt, checked my lipstick, ate a mint and tried to look young and perky. I checked the address again and then knocked on the door.

The door opened and my mind went, "_Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" _It was House standing at the door. He looked a little confused and then nervous. He kept looking around me as if he was expecting someone else. The shock was starting to dissipate and now I was curious.

"What do you want?" He asked in a hurry.

"Can I come in?"

"No. I'm expecting company any minute."

"This won't take long." I pushed past him and into the room.

He turned, obviously annoyed with me, and hobbled back to the middle of the room where I was standing. He was barefoot, dressed in a navy blue t-shirt and dark blue levis. There was a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table with a half-empty glass next to it and a couple of birthday cards. His piano was in the corner and there were musical instruments all over the wall and floor next to the fireplace. The apartment looked like him.

He pointed towards the door with his arms and his body, "Get out! Leave...I'll see you tomorrow."

"Who's so important that you can't take time out to let me say my peace?"

"My birthday present. Someone is bringing me my birthday present."

"Oh." I pretended to understand. "Ok, I get it. But I also came to give you your birthday present before I leave."

"You gave me a present already, now leave."

I walked up and was standing so close to him I could feel the body heat wafting off his chest along with that musky smell he has. I could almost taste the whiskey on his breath. He became very still and stiff. I put both hands on his face and pulled his head down as if I was going to whisper something in his ear. He let his body drop a little to hear what I had to say. Instead, I nibbled his ear and stuck my tongue in it while massaging his package through the jeans. His breathing became slow and deep. He actually quivered when I let my lips come down his neck. Then I unzipped him and started to stick my hand inside but he grabbed my hand and pulled it out.

"This is all very...very interesting but you really have to go, can I take a rain check?" His voice was softer, more considerate.

I looked up into his eyes and smiled sweetly, "Greg, I am your birthday present, Moonlight sent me over."

He froze, looking at me like I had just announced the second coming of Jesus Christ. I don't think he comprehend what I was saying at first. Then it hit him like the proverbial light bulb coming on. His eyes widened and all he said was, "Fuck. I was looking forward to this."

"I'm not leaving. I'm here to do a job and it's important that I do it. Pam won't hire me again if I don't report back that you were satisfied."

"Let me get this straight...you're a hooker? A hooker?"

"I'm still trying to build up a clientele, but yes, I am. And you're a John. So now that we have that figured out, let's go back to your bedroom and I'll keep my mouth shut."

"You think I'm going to pay you for sex? First you're what, 35, blond and oh, here's the clincher, my employee!"

"Not tonight. Tonight I'm your birthday gift to yourself. And before you dismiss a _36 _year old blond, at least give me a try. I know why you want a brunette and you want her to be quiet. It's because you want to imagine that you're back with Stacy, back when you'd just met and were young. But try something different for your birthday, try this. If you find me repulsive, you won't have to pay me. Come on, where's your bedroom?"

I started to walk to his bedroom while pulling his hand. He still wasn't convinced. "I don't bite Greg. Do you want me to be quiet?" Like a salesman, always keep asking the customer questions as if they had already committed to the purchase.

"I want you to leave."

"I will after I do what I came here to do. Come on." I could see he was melting, realizing that his plans for sex would fall through if he didn't take me up on it. I pulled again and he started down the hall with me. I saw that straight ahead was the bathroom and so I figured the room to my left was the bedroom. It was. The light on the night stand switched on easily. He came into the room and rubbed his forehead like he was still worried, still thinking about what to do. I had to act fast so I took off my peasant top and popped my bra. My girls are always the clincher. Guys have a hard time saying no to my pert round breasts. Greg groaned a little and at first I was worried that he was unhappy but then I realized he was groaning from defeat. He reached out and started to touch them, pet them, fondle them. My hands slithered up his shirt, He took it off as I pulled down the bedclothes. He had clean sheets on the bed. How considerate.

I crawled up onto the bed and, while kneeling on my knees, I crawled to the edge and rubbed my breasts on his chest while kissing his neck and ears. Returning my passion, he pressed his lips gently to my neck and then slid them down my clavical to my breasts, sucking them hard. He took his tongue and circled my areolas. I was having a hard time keeping my mind in the game so I went for the belt and undid it. After unzipping his Levis, he dropped them to the floor and. He started to climb into the bed with me. I put my hand down his shorts and found the most exquisite hard on you could imagine. It was long, but not too long, not too big,t a little above average. He was lying flat on the sheets. I reached down and sucked him a little and then came back up to let him fondle me. My skirt and panties were still on, so I got out of bed and took the skirt off and then climbed back in bed. We both had our underwear on and it was such a turn-on, sticking our hands down to feel, rather than see, what we were doing. His breath was picking up, a little faster than before. He was getting extremely excited so he backed away a little to slow it down, make it last a little longer before he penetrated me. All I could think was that I wanted to feel him inside of me.

Pulling me over to him, he felt my breasts as I pressed them to his chest again. We said nothing at all to each other as we were feeling, smelling, licking and rubbing each other. House slipped my panties off with his long fingers and then he dealt with his shorts. Pushing my legs open, he looked down and rubbed me a little, and then stuck his fingers inside to see if I was wet. The move caused him to take in a sharp breath. I was very wet. Reaching over to the nightstand, House pulled out a rubber for me to do the honors. I took it from him and dressed his penis. Once again, he pushed my legs open and stabbed me, penetrating me deep inside. I was tight, always have been. He made a little grunting sound when he started moving in and out of me. I wanted to ask him if he wanted to be on top or what he wanted, but I figured I'd just let him guide me. Things heated up when he took my arms and pinned them over my head. Lifting up slightly, he grew harder watching his penis penetrating me. He continued watching while he began thrusting faster and faster, reaching a point where he couldn't watch anymore or he'd come. He lay back down on top of me, supporting most of his weight on his elbows. I was so damn excited I was losing my focus. My breath was becoming irregular, faster, shallower. God, I was afraid I was going to come. Holding back was hard but Sadie had once said that some men don't want you to come, especially before they do. Still, the electricity in my body was incredible. I looked up as he opened his eyes and looked into mine. We were both about to come. Staring at each other, I knew it was going to be a tremendous explosion, and then it happened, he tried to kiss me. I instinctively turned my head. House immediately pulled his head back, realizing in that one move that this was business, I was a whore and you donn't kiss whores on their lips. He started thrusting hard, like he wanted to punish me. I said nothing but my excitement was gone. He came, crying out like a wounded animal. The thrusting stopped, but I continued thrusting up for just a moment, to give him the last of his climax. He fell to the side but couldn't look at me. I put my hand on his chest to let him know it was okay but he pulled it off. I felt like crying-I should have let him kiss me.

He was lying there with his arm over his eyes, just resting. I looked down and saw his leg with the shriveled and angry scar. I stroked it. He pulled my hand away. I put it back on the scar and sat up to massage it, putting just the right pressure on it because I could feel the muscle spasms in the leg ease up a little. I continued and was relieved when he didn't try to push me away. I got up, went and found some lotion which I used to massage both of his legs and then his chest. I spent more time on his bad leg, a lot more time. Twenty minutes went by and I was still massaging his arms, torso, legs. I made him turn over and I worked on his back, his butt and back down to his legs. I rubbed his neck and head with as much tenderness as I could muster and was rewarded with his body relaxing again. I kept thinking that by not kissing him I had stripped him of the one fantasy he wanted that night, the fantasy of having someone in his bed that cared about him.

I was done with the massage and it was time for me to go. I had already stayed an hour over my time. Standing up, I was going to get ready to leave, but he reached out and grabbed my arm. "How much for all night?"

My heart leaped, "$1000."

"Get my wallet out of my pocket."

I got his wallet out of the levis and handed it to him. He looked in and counted it out. He was short by 73.00. He fell back on the pillow, dejected.

"You can owe it to me. I know where you work."

He chuckled. "Okay. I'll give it to you tomorrow."

"Fine."

"How did you get into this?"

"I only take home 1200 dollars a month working for you. How do you expect me to survive?"

"1200? I didn't know it was so little. You're smart, why don't you go to school and get a degree."

I could see where this was going. But I had made a decision early on not to lie. "I do have a degree. Actually, I have three including a Masters from San Diego State and a Doctorate from Pacific University in English."

House sat up on his elbows and looked at me like I must be nuts. "Why are you working as a part time secretary?" He paused, noting the bigger question, "As a hooker?"

"I can't find a job in my field. I had to take what I could get until I could get on my feet. I hope to go back to writing novels,"

"Novels?"

"Nope, no more about me. 1000 doesn't buy my life story. But it does buy yours. Okay, so Daddy was a bad ass Marine who rode his son a little too hard, huh?" Where was Mommy?"

"Okay, I'll pay you an extra 20 to shut up."

"I'll deduct 20 if you answer."

"Come here."

"I have to call Moonlight and let them know why I haven't delivered their money."

I got up and went into the living room naked and dialed Pam.

"Moonlight Escorts."

"Pam?"

"Yes?"

"It's Reagan. The client wants me to stay all night. So I'll get the money to you tomorrow morning around 8:30 a.m. okay?"

"Crap."

"What's wrong?"

"He's never, ever asked for extra time. That means he likes you. He's going to want you when he calls."

"I don't think so. It's his birthday and he's just treating himself. Trust me. I'll explain tomorrow, okay?"

I hung up and turned around to see a nude House swinging off the overhead molding and watching me. He was actually very handsome with his blue eyes, handsome face and that lovely tackle just hanging there.

"You look inviting." I said.

I don't think he expected a compliment because he flinched. "I was just thinking the same about you. Come back to bed."

Back in bed, he turned on his stereo by remote and Eric Clapton's, "Born in Time", played in the background. Hands tugged on my back, pulling me closer, wrapping me up inside of him like he didn't want to let go. Kissing my ear and my neck, his left hand fondled and pinched my nipple gently. His lips found my nipples and with his tongue he licked and sucked, sending waves of pleasure to my groin. I felt his tongue run down the middle of my body playfully just before he pushed my legs apart and buried his face between my legs. I pushed his head away with my palm. House looked up at me somewhat puzzled.

"This is about you tonight, not me. Come on, let me give you another orgasm."

He shook his head no and smiled, "My money, I bought your pussy, I own it for the night, I can do what I like. Now don't even try to fake it. I'm a doctor and I know all the physiological signs of a female orgasm, understand?"

"Greg, please. Let's get you off."

"Lay back." He looked at me sternly, "I'm not kidding, lay back and relax."

He buried his face back in between my legs, licking very lightly on my clit. It was so gentle that it almost tickled. His beard was short and a little on the scratchy side but he knew that and tried to avoid too much movement with his chin using that tongue instead. Licking and sucking, he would poke his head up to look into my eyes and then stare at my cilit and opening. He finally smiled and I could feel that my clitoris, excited beyond my control, had shed it's cover and was begging for more. Greg began to suck on it gently and with a rhythm that mimicked gentle screwing. He placed one finger inside me as he romanced my clitoris. With all the stroking around my clit and the opening, I was starting to clench my thighs.

I was very self-conscious. This was my boss down there and I wasn't sure how pleasant it was for him. But as he continued his sucking and licking I didn't give a damn any more. All I knew was that my uterus was starting to contract and so were the muscles in my vagina. I was arching my back into the bed with my pelvis riding higher to give him a better advantage point. My breasts were rising up and down with my shallow breathing and my uterus was sending out signals of pleasure to my nipples, thighs, and head. I was going to come and I wanted him inside me when I did.

"Greg.' I reached over in his nightstand and fumbled around until I found a condom, unwarapping it as he continued to suck, "Get this on now and screw me." He put it on and then as fast as he could manage, entered me and started thrusting, I met him with equal force. I couldn't help make noises, high pitched moans. My nipples were sensitive when he kissed them. I opened my mouth and screamed outloud, six years of orgasmic celibacy came crashing down with each thrust. I could feel what a tight fit we made and that he was coming too. His rhythm was off as he started thrusting with shorter strokes, stopping at the top of the thrust while he ejaculated over and over. I wrapped my legs around him and rocked the last of our orgasms out of us and then collapsed. Beads of sweat glistened on my chest and my nipples were firmly erect. Despite being spent, we were both laughing and smiling. I grabbed him and gave him a full on, lots of tongue, French kiss on his mouth. He reciprocated. We made out like teenagers for several minutes and then he pulled out of me with a little whimper from being so sensitive.

I buried my head in his chest. I didn't want him to see how happy I was-so happy I was crying. I pretended to be laughing and I think he bought it because he laughed with me. I pulled the sheet up over us and within minutes we were asleep, still tangled in each other.

Despite being hazy, I was surprised to feel him gently stroking up and down my back. I mumbled, "That feels good." So I did the same to him. He kissed me on the lips to test me, to make sure it was kosher. I could feel him getting excited and I asked him, "How do you want it?"

"Your legs over my shoulders." He grabbed a condom and put it on, guiding himself in as I lifted myself up. He put a pillow under my hips and then my legs over his shoulders. Penetration can't get much deeper than this position. I knew he liked how tight we fit together and the way the deep penetration felt as he glided in and out. It's hard to do anything for your man in this position but provide a warm place for him to screw so I watched him as he stared at what he was doing to me. I looked down to see his view and I have to admit it was erotic causing me to involuntarily clinch my vagina. That was enough to set him off. He was coming. I don't think he was ready yet, but he couldn't control it. I decided the least I could do was to keep clenching and releasing. I did this and he let out short explicatives almost like he was in pain. After he stopped, House shook his head like a dog shaking water off and then pulled my legs down. Slipping out of me slowly, House winced a little. "Christ, you've got a grip like a long shoreman. You are tight."

"Is that a complaint or a compliment?"

"Oh, believe me, it's a compliment." He rolled over on his back and chuckled as he looked up at the ceiling and then at me. "Whew...I need some sleep. You're killing me. I just turned 51, not 21."

"Hey, you initiated that last one."

"Yeah, I wouldn't have if your breasts hadn't been pressed up against my chest so provocatively. I wake up and bam, those nipples are pressing into me like hot coals."

"Give it a rest."

"You're right, shhhhh. Go to sleep." He wrapped an arm around me and we went back to sleep.

The alarm went off at 8:00 a.m. I looked at it and almost threw it across the room. I felt like Cinderella after the ball. Crawling out of the Queen sized bed, I went into the bathroom, peed, washed up a little and then came out in my bra and panties. He had one eye opened watching me.

"You're going?"

I nodded, "I have to get this money to Moonlight, get home, get cleaned up and get into work. My boss is a real bastard and he'll take it out on me if I'm late." I put on my clothes, reached over and gave him a peck on his cheek and left.

My heart sank. I knew it was a one off, that it wouldn't, couldn't, happen again, but still there was a part of me that wished it could always be like last night. I drove by and met with Pam who I had to wake from a much needed rest.

"Here's 150 dollars."

She seemed surprised to be receiving so much. "Okay, so why won't he be asking for you next time?"

"Because we know each other. It was slightly embarrassing but I had to convince him to go through with it. It was his birthday and he just wanted someone to stay with him. So I charged him 1000 and stayed the night. He was just lonely, it won't happen again. Thanks for the opportunity. Call me if you get in a bind again."

"Reagan, why don't you come and work for me? You'd be busy every night."

"I think I like being a part-time hooker. I'm not as comfortable with the whole sleeping with anybody thing as I had thought I would be. I have a couple of regulars who are good to me and the odd trick is fine. I'm doing okay. But thanks, who knows, I may need to take you up on that offer someday.""

"Well, it's open anytime."

I thought about the offer all the way home. A different man every night and no control over whether I could tolerate them or not. It wasn't very appealing, but I'd make double what I was making now.

I went home, took my shower and pulled into PPTH at 9:45 a.m. There was no one in the office when I got in but there was an envelope on my desk with 100 in it. I made change and put 28 back on his chair in the same envelope. I looked around for something to do. There was nothing pressing so I decided to check out that bottom locked drawer in his desk. I took out the letter opener and had it opened within seconds. I rummaged through the top layers of several files. There were papers about criminal charges filed against him for Possession with the Intent to Sell -Vicodin. There was a minute order from the court dismissing the charges. The next file was thick and involved his bad leg. There were numerous articles about pain control and depression. I read one of the latest chart entries on his leg and saw that for some reason, he regained function in his leg after he was shot. Shot?

I looked up and he was standing over me. "Find what you were looking for?"

I blushed a bright red.

"A lock usually means that you don't want anyone nosing around in the drawer." he said.

"I just thought it meant, "Challenge, the really good stuff is in here. You were shot?"

"Oh, no, no. No changing the subject. We were just about to get the part where I punish you for snooping where you shouldn't."

"Well, I'll just go sit out there by that white board until you come up with the appropriate punishment." I got up and sneaked by him, thinking to myself how great he smelled and wishing I could stop smiling.

I looked over my shoulder and I could see him going through his drawer trying to figure out what I had seen. "Uh, I hadn't gotten that far. I stopped at your leg file."

He looked at me and threw it all back in the drawer. I wanted to apologize but I was finding just being around him to be awkward. I could tell he was having a hard time too. He wanted to tease me about last night but for some reason he was holding back. I think there was a part of him that wanted to keep it special, not ruin it with banter and jokes. I knew that this wouldn't last long, eventually he wouldn't be able to resist teasing me, but for now it was kind of sweet.

I went back to my desk and sat down. Foreman walked in and asked if I would type up an article for him. I knew he would review and edit it so I just typed. I didn't try to make any changes. It kept my mind busy. At noon I got a call from Pam.

"I thought you said it would be a one off deal. That he wouldn't ask for you."

"What happened?"

"He called ten minutes ago. He wants to hire you for Saturday, all night."

I was hurt, stunned. Now what? If he had really wanted to be with me he would have just asked me out. By hiring me he could control the situation. He didn't have to feel anything. He could enjoy the night without the emotional investment in a real relationship. I was just a nice piece of ss to him.

"I hope you told him no since I'm independent."

"Well, I thought about it. Usually, the service makes 50 off of him because he just hires the girl for an hour. If he hires you for a night, we get 75. So, if you want the trick, he's yours."

"I'll think about it."

"I need an answer by tomorrow."

I sat at my desk and stared into his office as I watched him read journals. I didn't want another night with him, not as a hooker. Screw him...well, don't screw him. I guess I should have felt flattered. My services were so appreciated that he wanted another night with me. Sadie would be pleased. Instead I felt rejected, as worthless as I felt when I was in prison. I thought about how House just wanted to hire me by the night and Ryan didn't even bother to call me back after one date. Life sucked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 8 **

Thackery Daiquiri Doc

Tara Rembrandt from dermatology was having a bacherlorette party Friday night and it was going to start at the Triumph and then move through several bars in town. At first Tara and most of the women at PPTH thought Reagan was just a slut from the way she dressed, but Reagan had won them over and now had a lot of friends at the hospital. She was frequently invited to hospital events by the staff. Tara really like Reagan and had begged her to come.

Reagan hadn't slept Thursday night. She had to let Pam know in the morning if she would do House on Saturday. It was driving her nuts. If she said no, then he'd probably punish her in some truly inspiring way. If she said yes, she'd be giving him an easy out, he could have her without strings as long as he had money.

Pam hung up the phone and shook her head. Sometimes she didn't understand her own sex. She dialed G.House's cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Dr. House?"

"Yes?"

"This is Moonlight Escorts. We're sorry to have to tell you but Reagan is unavailable for Saturday night. Can we send you Paula? I know you like her and she's available."

"No I don't want Paula. I want Reagan." he stared at Reagan through the glass while he was on the phone. She was tying furiously and occasionally look up and at him.

"I believe that she has another customer that night. Perhaps I could comp you on another girl, to make it up to you."

"Did she say she had another customer? Is that what she said?" House said it like it was the Spanish Inquisition.

"Dr. House, I know you're upset but there's nothing I can do, she's booked. Please call us when we can be of service to you in the future." Pam hung up, shook her head and laughed. "That man's got it bad."

House stormed out to the outer office. He looked at her and was clearly frustrated and angry. The team looked up, expecting him to say something to them but House was watching Reagan type. She had on her headphones and was transcribing a tape. She didn't realize he was standing by her at first. She finally looked up and saw everyone staring at her. She took her headphones off.

"Did I fart or something?"

"You're...you're...busy Saturday night?"

She went white and looked around the office at the other three doctors. She couldn't believe he was going to do this right here, right now. "I have plans Saturday night. I won't be able to type that up for you Dr. House. Sorry."

"Type, type? I don't want you to type, I don't need your fingers, well, maybe your fingers would come in handy. I want you to..."

"...Dr. House, I'm **sorry**, but I am busy. I can't work that night."

"Who's your..."

"**Dr. House**! Can I see you in your office?"

House looked silly as if he was being called out. Reagan practically ran into House's office. House gave the team a shrug and followed.

"What was that about?" She was shaking she was so angry.

"You have a client Saturday night?"

"I don't want anyone to know what I do outside of ..."

"Answer my question," He paused and said in stacatto fashion, do...you ...have...a...client...Saturday...night?

"None...of...your...business." She put both hands on her hips.

He looked down at her, obviously pissed, "Screw you." He turned and walked out of his office.

She wished she had someone to talk to, maybe Sadie. She didn't know what to do or what she was feeling. She ran into the outer office, looked at the stunned Team and ran out.

"What was that all about?" Cameron asked.

"I don't know but I could swear House looked crazy, almost insane." Foreman said.

"I think House has fallen for Reagan and he doesn't know how to handle it." Chase said without looking up from his magazine.

Reagan went home and had a glass of wine before getting ready for the bachelorette party. She got dressed in her pink sun dress, the only sundress she owned, and drove to the Triumph.

Wilson could see that House was acting strange. He had burst into Wilson's office, looked at him, said nothing and then threw up his hands as if in defeat. Wilson wasn't sure if House was angry or sad or both. "Want to talk about it?"

"Not yet."

"How about some drinks tonight? I'll buy." Wilson offered. It really wasn't much of an offer because House rarely paid for their drinks anyway.

"Yeah, I guess."

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head and left. House went up to the roof. I thought we had a good time. I thought she enjoyed it. I just wanted to take her out for some fun. Does she really have another John Saturday night? If she liked me, wanted to be with me, she would have called the guy and backed out. I wonder if I offered enough money. She needs the money. Maybe the other guy is giving her more money and she needs it. I should have offered more money. Screw this, I can't do this. I **won't** do this.

House went with Wilson to the Triumph for drinks. They were settling in for a long night. "Do you want to tell me what's eating you? I had hoped your little birthday treat would make you easier to deal with...what happened?"

House was taking a good swig of his second whiskey when they saw a group of women come in through the door to the patio. House recognized them from the hospital. Wilson turned to him, "Tara's bachelorette party. She's getting married tomorrow."

House smiled. He was about to go over and flirt but then he saw her open the door. Reagan took off her Raybans and looked good enough to eat. She was in tight white clam diggers with white heels. He recognized her black low cut shell and the white hoop earrings. Her hair was back in a ponytail. Her lips were blood red. She took off her glasses, smiled and waved at the crowd. She didn't see Wilson or House at the bar at first.

House settled back down to watch the group of women. Wilson elbowed House and pointed at the far end of the bar. They weren't surprised to see Virgil Thackery already at the bar with a, was that a Daiquiri? How girlie. It was common knowledge that Virgil's marriage was in the toilet and he spent more time at the Triumph than at home. Wilson and House saddled up next to Virgil. He was one of the few surgeons that House could tolerate. Virgil still had a humble air to him and House liked humility in his acquaintances.

"You know Virgil," House said as the bartender brought him another drink, "You should always talk to your wife while you're having sex, it's easy now with cell phones."

Wilson shook his head, "How are you doing Virgil?"

"Like crap, I haven't gotten laid in...well let's just say there was still snow on the ground when we last had sex. I can't take this Rosie Palm crap anymore. I'm 34, I need more than a growl at night."

House had heard through the grapevine that Virgil's wife was doing the male nurse in post-op, they had met at the Christmas party Virgil had thrown for his department.

Wilson asked, "How bad is it?"

"I called her the other day to tell her I'd be home late for dinner and the voice mail said that dinner was in the microwave...that bad."

House downed his whiskey and motioned for another. Wilson could see that House was amused by Virgil's pain and had perked up a little. "You need to get laid." House said. "You see that blonde?" House pointed out Reagan. "She's a hooker. For $300 you can get your rocks off and send her packing, no strings attached."

"HOUSE, stop it. That's Reagan. Don't do that to her, it's not funny." Wilson was mortified.

"I'm not trying to be funny. She really is a hooker...a part time hooker." House turned back to Thackery, "She's good. I know, I f#cked her last night."

"HOUSE!" Wilson wasn't sure if he was telling the truth or not. He couldn't believe that Reagan was a hooker. She looked perky, sweet, beautiful.

House batted his eyes at Wilson, "She's a hooker, a whore, a putain, puta, a lady of the night, tramp, harlot...get it?" He could see that Wilson wasn't convince. House dropped his bravado and all the drama. He looked at Wilson and said solemnly and without any fanfare, "She showed up last night. The agency sent her. We spent the night together."

Wilson was disturbed, "Reagan?"

House nodded.

"You spent the whole night with her?"

He shrugged his shoulders and a little of his sarcasm came back into his voice, "She's good. You should try her."

Wilson winced. So that's why House was acting strange. He spent the whole night with a hooker, with Reagan. His routine is to get them out of the apartment after the deed is done. He must really like her if he let her stay. But why is he doing this? Why is he offering her up to other men? God, he can be such a bastrd.

"House, don't do this. Look at you. You're a wreck. She must mean something to you. Don't treat her like trash under your feet. She must be doing it for a reason. Her job must not pay much at the hospital. It's just economics, she needs to eat."

House looked away from Wilson and then swallowed, took a breath and got his bravado back, "Hey, just helping a working girl make a buck. She could do worse than Virgil here. He's a straight up guy, aren't you Virgil?" He slapped Virgil on the back.

Virgil hadn't been listening, he was watching Reagan, wondering if she'd do him, "Huh?"

"Go on Virgil, go get you some of that tail." House almost pushed him off the stool.

Wilson grabbed House's hand and gave him a disgusted look but he could see that the whiskey was making House mean and spiteful. Something had gone wrong between them. House was hurt and wanted to hurt her back.

House laughed at Wilson. Wilson took out his wallet, threw a couple of twenties on the bar, took a last look at House and left. House frowned and felt like crap. He watched as Virgil Thackery walked over to Reagan. Reagan got up, smiled at him and stepped off to the side to talk to him. She was listening, she had a slight smile on her pretty face and a polite demeanor. Her smile dropped as she followed Virgil's finger, pointing at House. She looked at House with so much pain in her eyes that House had to look away. He finished his drink, added another twenty to the pile and left. He couldn't take it. What have I done?

Monday morning House came in to work, wearing his sunglasses, hung over and tired from a weekend of heavy drinking. Around 9:45 a.m. Reagan showed up in her sunglasses too and took her seat without saying anything to anyone. She moved her computer a little so that her back was to everyone. The three Fellows looked at each other, something was up.

Cameron had to ask, "Is there something wrong Reagan?"

"I'm okay." She answered.

Cameron looked again at the others and shrugged her shoulders. House came into the outer office and threw several files on the table at the Fellows. He furtively glanced at Reagan and saw that she had her back to him. He didn't say anything to her.

"An elderly man reports having recurrent hematuria over a period of two years. He had undergone transurethral resection of the prostate because of benign prostatic hypertrophy two years earlier. He had evidence of chronic renal insufficiency, with a serum creatinine level of 4.4 mg per deciliter. Multiple urine cultures during the previous nine months have yielded only "contaminants."

"You're the nephrologist, what's your thoughts?' Foreman asked House.

"Get a C.T. and do another urine culture."

They all took off leaving House in the same office as Reagan who continued to type aimlessly. She was writing up another grant request for the department. When she taught at community college she had obtained thousands of dollars in grants for the English Department. The other department heads would come to her for assistance in drafting submittals. She seemed to have the golden touch. No one had asked her to do it at PPTH. But on occasion she would see a request for grant proposals mentioned in the journals or newsletters House received and she'd sit down, get assistance on some of the medical wording, write up a proposal, sign House's name and submit it. She'd already submitted five of them.

House desperately wanted to say something to her, something witty and funny, but he was blank. He spent a long time preparing a cup of coffee, hoping maybe she would say something, but she continued to type. He needed something to break the ice. He finally realized that he had to submit his next article soon, he could ask her about that.

"I have to submit my next article by July 1st. I should have it for you on Monday, okay?"

She just nodded her head.

"I'm going to Dairy Queen at lunch, do you want one of those Hot Fudge Malts?"

She shook her head "no."

"Well, what's on my calendar for the next few weeks?"

She threw the calendar at him without looking up. He looked at it. He remembered the seminar at the end of the month in London. Crap, he was going to have to make sure he had the article written before he left.

"What airlines am I flying?"

Her voice cracked, "American." She tried not to sniff, but it just came out.

It hit him that she was crying, not that she was mad. He swung her chair around and looked at her. Her eyes were swollen, red and dotted with tears. She took her arm and wiped across her eyes. He could have handled anger, sarcasm or hatred, but not tears? He had really hurt her, down to the bone.

He tried several times to say something but ate his words each time. She just looked at him, waiting but he said nothing. She turned back around and started typing again.

He tried to explain why he did it, "I thought you needed the money."

She just nodded. "Yeah, I do. Thanks."

"So," he wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he had to ask, "did Thackery work out for you?"

She just nodded again.

He felt sick.

Chapter 9

Wilson and the Damsel

I was having a good time, hadn't even noticed the men at the bar. We were laughing and making bawdy jokes about Tara's honeymoon when Virgil Thackery walked up to me. He looked sad and nervous. He had on slacks and a polo shirt and smelled like Carolina Herrera.

"Dr. Thackery, nice to see you. Are you here for the party?"

"Uh...no, I just thought I would come over to talk to you." There was a burst of laughter related to something someone said to Tara. I couldn't hear Dr. Thackery.

"Why don't we step over here, I can't hear you." We moved away from the table and I smiled at him to make him feel at ease.

"I...I heard that you might be interested in a business proposition." He was white and a little clammy.

"Proposition? What kind of proposition?_" He can't mean sex and, if so, how did he know to approach me?_

He lowered his voice and looked around, "Sex. I have money."

I kept smiling, my mind working overtime, "Who told you that I...that I sleep with men for money?"

He raised a finger and pointed at the bar. I saw House's blue eyes and my heart died a thousand deaths._ Why? Why is he doing this? Was I so little to him that this was his idea of fun? _I just stared at him. He ran as fast as he could out of the bar. I was still stunned when Dr. Thackery said, "I'm sorry, Dr. House told me you were...I'm sorry."

I turned to him. Now I was angry at House, "Yes, the doctor is right. $300 for an hour, $500 for all night, $150 for a blow job and no back doors."

"Backdoors?"

"Anal sex."

"OH! No, no backdoors."

"Great, where do you want to go?" He looked around like there might be a bedroom in the restaurant. I realized I was going to have to hold his gifted hands through this. "Go to the Hyatt, get a room and call me on my cell, I'll join you after I say my goodbyes here. Oh, and don't forget to go by the ATM, I don't take checks or credit cards."

He nodded, "Okay, okay." He smiled and left.

I returned to the table and pretended to be engaged in the party but I was dying. F#ck House, f#ck Ryan, f#ck men. That's what I'll do, I'll just f#ck them...no feelings, no kissing on the mouth. You give too much of yourself when you do that. Now I understood.

The phone rang half an hour later. He was in room 232. I made my apologies and left. I drove to the hotel, parked and made my way to his room. He answered the door.

"I ordered some champagne. Is that okay?" He asked.

"Sure, it's great, just great. I'll need the money up front though."

He reached in got his wallet and I saw a wad of twenties from the ATM. "Here's $300, I just need an hour."

"Okay, it's 8:45 p.m. your hour starts now." I went over to the television, turned on the music channel and began my little show. He came quickly the first time.

"God, it's been a long time. You feel so good, so soft and warm. You're good, really good."

I almost laughed, how would he know if I was good? He took less than three minutes. Oh well, the second go should last a little longer. There was a knock on the door. Virgil looked stunned, he had forgotten about the champagne.

"There's a robe in the closet."

He grabbed the robe and some cash for a tip and took the champagne bottle and glasses from the server. We popped the cork and started drinking.

"You're so nice, so pretty, why aren't you married with kids?"

I wasn't expecting that. I was expecting the, 'why are you a hooker?' question. I must have looked stunned because he smiled at me.

"I...I don't have a good track record with men. I was away for a long time and there weren't many men around. The ones who were around were married."

"Oh." He drank his champagne and we talked for a few more minutes and then I started to fondle him. He was ready. This time I teased him just to the point of climax and then backed down several times until he was begging for me not to stop. I let him come this time and I could tell afterwards that Virgil Thackery was now a regular.

I went home, took a shower and collapsed on the bed. I started to cry and I didn't stop crying the whole weekend. I felt worthless, crappy, unloved. I wish I had Sadie to talk to, she'd cheer me up.

I went into work and wore my sunglasses until I could arrange the computer to hide my face. But House was persistent and when he finally turned me around to look at my eyes I wanted to hit him. He took one look and I could see how sad he was too. We really screwed this one up royally. I stared at him, hoping he would just say he was sorry. Instead he gave me an excuse, "I thought you needed the money."

I was really screwed. I need the job and the benefits but working around him was incredibly painful.

I went to lunch by myself, off campus, and returned to see that there was a bouquet of a dozen long stem red roses and a card. I thought maybe they were from House. I looked through the glass, into his office and he was staring up over his reading glasses at me, watching me read the card, which had obviously been opened.

"You're beautiful. Tomorrow? Virgil."

I smiled at how sweet it was for him to send them but I was curious as to what House thought when he read the card. Did it matter? No. I called Virgil's cell phone from a land line so it would say PPTH and not raise any suspicions. I just left a short message in his voice mail, "This is diagnostics, the appointment for tomorrow is confirmed for 7:00."

My hooker job was picking up steam. Between House, Virgil and Pete I would rake in an extra $1325 this week. If Calvin called I would hit the jackpot for one week. I shouldn't have turned down House. It would have been another $500, money I could have used. It was all economics, I couldn't afford to get sentimental. I should keep House as a client.

I pulled out my little pocket calendar and marched into House's office. He looked up from his work and took off his glasses to look at me. They were somber, studious, constantly analyzing me.

"I have this coming Saturday open if you're interested." I looked him straight in the eye like a businesswoman should.

He thought a moment and rubbed his lip with his index finger as if it was a weighty problem. It must have been at least a minute before he responded, "No thanks."

"Suit yourself." I wasn't really surprised. He wouldn't want me after Virgil. Screwing Virgil sent a message to him that I really was a whore. Well, I am.

I finished my work at 2:05 pm and began to pack up. Wilson walked in and asked, "Can I buy you dinner?"

My mouth must have dropped because he laughed a little at me. I asked, "A date?"

"No, just dinner. I'd like to talk to you."

"What time?"

"7:00?"

I gave him my address and turned to grab my purse. I saw House watching me. He had to have seen me talking with Wilson. No matter. I went home to clean up. I didn't have a clue what Wilson wanted so I got dressed in a corset and garter belt just in case it was sex. Some Johns like to take you to dinner, pretend that it's a date. You just never know. I really dreaded the thought of sleeping with Wilson, not that he wasn't incredibly handsome and kind, but he was House's best friend and I could never expect any kind of truce (not that I was expecting one) with House if I did.

He knocked on my door and I opened it. "Would you like to come in?" I asked.

"No, we better get going our reservations are in twenty minutes."

"Okay."

He opened the passenger door to his car and I got in. As we were driving he commented on the weather. "It sure got hot quickly this summer."

"Yes, it did. I still find it hard to get used to the humidity."

"Where are you from?"

"California. You know, dry heat."

"I love California. I would have gone there to practice but my family is all on the east coast."

"Dr. Wilson, do you have any kids?" I knew he had been married three times, it was a running joke between House and the team, but I had never heard if he had kids.

"No. And please call me Jim."

There was a pleasant pause and I turned and looked at him, "House told you, didn't he?"

Wilson looked at me, unsure of what to say. "Yes, he told me."

"Is this about that?" I sounded childish, not coming out and saying what I meant. It was just that Wilson seems so sweet, so nice, I felt dirty now that he knew.

"Yes."

I swallowed hard. So he wanted sex. I'm a whore, what did I expect. My voice broke but I managed to get it out in one breath, "$300 for an hour, $500 for all night, $150 for blow jobs, no back doors." I started crying. Just those little tears, no sobs, nothing traumatic. I just had a hard time imagining having sex with Wilson.

"Oh! No, no. I don't want sex..." He stopped in mid-sentence, "Are you crying?" He sounded truly concerned.

"It's just something in my eye. I got it out. I'll be okay. You don't want sex? Did he tell you I turn tricks?"

"Yes, yes...I knew. Why were you just crying?"

I sighed. "I don't really know. I think I didn't want to sleep with you."

He was a little taken back and I realized that I had fumbled what I meant.

"Oh, Jim, I would love to sleep with you...or I would have loved to sleep with you but not now, not after all that's happened. Maybe if you had asked me out on a date earlier...God, I'm making a balls up of this aren't I." I balled my hands into fists trying to get it right, "Okay, I find you attractive. I find you sexually attractive, but..."

He started laughing, "This is funny, you're as bad as House right now. Crap, it's worse than I thought."

"What do you mean?"

We pulled into the parking lot, he parked the car, turned off the motor and looked at me under the parking lot lamps, "I mean you've fallen in love with the curmudgeon cripple and he's fallen for the hapless hooker. I don't know if this is a romantic comedy or a Shakespearean tragedy. Well, come on, let's go eat."

We walked into the restaurant and were shown our table. It was a bistro set up with black cane back chairs, white table clothes, black and white checkered floor. The food was Californian. Kind of a Mexican from Haight Ashbury mix.

"So what did you do before you came to Princeton?"

"You mean what did I do with my degree in English?"

"Sure."

"I taught creative writing and wrote Harlequin novels."

He was stunned again. "You were a teacher?"

"Yep. I was full time faculty at a community college. It was the best job in the world. I loved it."

"Why give it up, why move?"

"A relationship that went very, very bad. Abusively bad."

"Oh, I'm sorry. But why aren't you teaching?"

"I couldn't find a job in it."

"But there are so many other things you could do. Why work for House?"

"Money and benefits. I was about to get kicked out of my apartment when he hired me."

"But I thought hookers, especially pretty hookers, made a lot of money."

"I'm not a very good hooker, I mean I'm not good at getting clients because I'm too picky. I can still count the number of clients on my fingers. I don't need my toes yet. That's not a very good turnover. But I'm working on it."

He was engrossed in what I was saying. Like it was a really trashy novel that you don't believe but can't put down. "So you're the romantic part-time hooker with benefits?"

I chuckled, "I guess you could put it that way. Jim, why did you ask me out?"

"I wanted to get to know you. House was acting incredibly cruel the other night and he only does that when he's wounded. I was just wondering what happened between you two. If you don't mind. You see, he's brilliant at his job, horrible in relationships. He acts like a teenager most of the time and it's painful to watch him screw things up."

"Jim, you've been married three times. You can't judge him too harshly."

"I know. But I at least get into and maintain a relationship long enough to walk down the aisle. He falls for someone and the minute something goes wrong in the relationship, he compounds it by being cruel. So, can I ask what happened?"

"I'll give you the abridged version. An escort service in town didn't have enough girls so they sent me. I get there and it's House's apartment. I needed to show the owner of the service that she could trust me to get the job done so she'd continue to give me a call when she was short on girls. So I convinced House to try me out. He ordered an hour and ended up paying for the whole night. I thought we had a great time, we clicked. But, I've been so wrong, so often that I'm not surprised by what he did." I had my mojito and was staring out the window trying not to cry.

"What did he do that upset you?"

"He asked the escort service to send me again, on Saturday."

I could see that Wilson wasn't sure what to say. "You're obviously devastated by this but it seems rather nice of House to have asked for you. Maybe it's just a guy thing, but I'm not following."

"Jim! I'm sitting less than forty feet away from him and he couldn't just get up and ask me for a date? He wanted to hire me as a hooker. Don't you get it? A hooker. No feelings required, he can pay me and not have to think about what I'm feeling. Easiest date in the world...a hooker. I said no."

"I'm beginning to understand but you see, even I didn't register that. He probably didn't want to insult you, make you think he wanted "it" for free. He knew you needed the money and he was willing to shell out $500 so you wouldn't think he was cheap. But, I see what you're saying and you're right. I can't say for certain what was going through his mind but I know he's acting strange, even for House."

"Then why did he send me a new client?"

"Thackery?" He asked and I nodded. "I told you, when he's wounded, he striked out. When you said no, you were rejecting him and rather than just say, "You hurt me," he finds ways to hurt back. He's like a wounded animal or a little boy. Did you sleep with Thackery?"

I didn't think that was any of his business but he seemed to genuinely want to help so I nodded.

"So it backfired on him. You called his bluff and he got hurt. It looks like you got hurt too."

"I think we're beyond hurt. I think we're two ships in the night that are so far off course we'd be lucky to find any port, let alone each other. I went back today and offered him Saturday night...as a hooker...and he turned me down."

"Oh, I see." Wilson looked as if this was grave news. "Yeah, I'd have to agree. It looks like the U.S.S. House and Grogan have sailed. I'm sorry that his happened. I think you would have been good for him."

We ate dinner, talked about mundane things like tv and movies and then just before he left Wilson said, "Reagan, is there some way I can help you so that you don't have to turn tricks to stay afloat? I could try to find you another job. Maybe someone else in the hospital has another part-time job or even a full-time one."

"I don't want you to go out of your way Jim, but if you hear of something, let me know."

I knew that the only reason I got the job with House was because House asked for me and Sarah didn't want to argue with him. She knew I was a felon because I put it down, but she had never said anything to me. I liked Sarah. Whenever I saw her she'd shake her head and say something like, "I can't believe you've lasted this long." It was a running joke between us.

Chapter 10

While the Cat's Away

The next few weeks were hectic. House was frantically trying to get his article done before flying to London. He was spending a lot of time at work, writing and re-writing it. He was actually very proud of the case he was reporting and so he was spending more time on it. Plus, it gave him more time at work with Reagan.

She was working extra hours to stay on top of everything. The Fellows had decided that Reagan was the perfect person to type up their patient notes and rather than use their down time to catch up on charting, they simply handed tapes to Reagan to transcribe. This pissed Reagan off a little because the department handled maybe one patient a week, giving the Fellows more than enough time to chart their own notes.

House and Reagan appeared to ignore each other except for matters dealing with work. Despite the appearance, they were both keeping watch on each other. House sometimes asked Reagan to stay a few hours to type up his patient notes too.

"I need you to type these notes up. For every hour you work over four I'll let you have an hour off while I'm gone."

"With pay?"

"No, I'll scratch you under the chin when I get back. Of course with pay." He watched her as she stood up and looked intently out into the hall. House turned around and saw Ryan Geffler go by.

"What, Geffler forget to pay you?"

She looked up at him and sighed. Whenever they were alone he made blatant cheap shots at her about being a hooker. When others were around he was more obscure but just as cruel.

"No, I just... forget it." She sat back down.

"What is it about him? Oh, I remember, you went out on a date with him. I bet he never called you back for another one."

She looked up at him, her mouth was open and her eyes clearly registered shock.

"It's his M.O. He dates to keep the rumors down, but he nevers asks a woman out twice."

"Really? Why?"

"He's gay. I saw him at a film festival with his boyfriend, a tech down in the labs."

"I'll be damned. Why try to hide it?"

"Parents don't approve and they own half of Trenton. Don't tell me you were beating yourself up over him?"

"I normally have good gaydar. But looking back I think I was just so surprised that anyone would ask me out that I shut it off. I just wanted to feel like a girl again."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean? You get paid to be a girl."

"I get paid to be a woman. Forget it. It means nothing." She regretted saying it. It was too late House's "s_e_xth sense" had been alerted.

"No...not nothing. You must get asked out on dates all the time."

She kept quiet and pretended to be busy so she could ignore him. He got down in her face and with the light in his eyes dancing said, "What did you mean, 'feel like a girl again'?"

"You see doctor, I used to be a man, had to go off my hormones, but now I'm back on them...feelin like a girl again. Now leave me alone and let me get back to typing up your nonsense."

He took a chair, turned it around and straddled it backwards, staring at her. "Well, Wilson asked you out the other night."

"As a friend. It wasn't a date."

"Did you wear special lingerie when he took you to dinner?"

"Yeah, but he refused to pay to take a peak. I have it on right now, want a peak for $100?"

"Sorry, haven't been to the ATM today."

"Too bad, it has little black bows on it. Why don't you leave me alone?"

"Because you're fun to humiliate."

"Yeah, well you would know. You really got me good at Triumphs."

His smile left his face and he looked down. "Yeah, that was stupid, huh?"

"Not really, he's a regular now. I guess I owe you."

She could tell that she had just scored one. He was trying to keep his face from showing how he felt but she saw him clench his teeth slightly, look away and swallow hard.

"Just trying to grease the wheels of the economy. So, how are tricks? Just last night the girl I screwed from Moonlight told me that she's been busy every night for the last two months."

Now it was Reagan's turn to feel hurt. She laughed it off and said, "Well, just make sure she gets her STD tests done."

"That reminds me, are you getting tested?"

"Every quarter. I'm clean just in case you're worried about my health or want to schedule that Saturday night."

"Hell no, I'm worried about my health."

"Dr. House, I really need to get back to typing. This has been lovely, but I have work to do."

He got up and put the chair back, grabbed his cane and said, "Oh, one more thing. While I'm gone you're going to have to feed Steve."

"Steve?"

"Steve McQueen, my pet."

"I didn't see a pet the other night?"

"He's in a cage in the kitchen. He's a rat."

"I have to feed a rat?"

"I'll give you the key before I leave. He gets some rat pellets. I'll leave instructions."

Later that evening House and Wilson were on their way to the movies when House told Wilson, "Stop by Princeton Pets."

"Why? Are you buying a pet?"

"I'm buying a rat."

"Another rat? Why?'

"Because I told Reagan that she had to feed Steve McQueen while I was gone."

"But Steve's been dead for months."

"No, Steve is about to be resurrected."

"House, what are you up to?"

"She won't be able to resist going through my things so I'm going to "plant" some stuff."

"Like what?"

"Phone numbers, letters and photos for other women. Women's lingerie. You know."

"You're going to try and make her jealous? Why don't you just ask her out on a date?"

"Who said I wanted to date her? I'm over that. I just want to torment her. She still wants me, I can tell."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what they call it when someone goes out and has fun on a regular basis, "pining for House.""

"I tell you, she's still has the hots for me."

House bought a new rat and installed it in Steve's old cage. Steve McQueen Jr. happily ran on his wheel and ate contentedly all day. House packed and left for his five days in London after giving Reagan keys and instructions. House also installed three web cams that were motion activated, one in the living room, one in the kitchen and one in the bedroom.

The first day that House was away, Reagan was a good girl, she unlocked the door, walked in, put his mail on the table, fed Steve and was out the door. House checked the webcam and was disappointed. Nothing.

The next day she came in went into the kitchen, took out a glass, drew some water from the tap and had a drink. She went over to the cage, took Steve Jr. out and petted him for a few minutes. After hand feeding him, she put him back in his cage, washed the glass and put it in the cupboard. She left. House was even more disappointed.

The third day she came in with his mail and looked through the envelopes before putting them down on his table. She went in to the kitchen and fed Steve McQueen. Reagan was going to leave but she put her purse down and went into the living room. She opened up the piano and hit a few keys. Then she sat at his piano. She played a few songs, got up, put the cover down on the keys and left. House watched the webcam from his hotel room. She plays piano?

On Friday after work she went into the kitchen, took Steve out and played with him for awhile. She went back into the living room, sat down and looked around. She went to the shelves, pulled a book, sat down on the couch and read for an hour and then left._What is _wrong_ with this woman. Has she no curiosity? _

Saturday, the day that House was scheduled to leave London, Reagan was feeling incredibly depressed. Her aunt had just been hospitalized in the final stages of leukemia and she had to admit to herself that she missed House. She wanted a drink. She fed Steve and then went into the living room and took out a bottle of whiskey. She poured herself a whiskey and put on some music. She started dancing. House had already boarded his plane and was oblivious to Reagan's party for one.

Reagan began playing the musical instruments that hung on the wall, poorly. She went through his CD collection and played it too. She looked at his high school album. He looked young. She had another couple of drinks. She went back to his bedroom and opened his dirty clothes hamper, got out a t-shirt and smelled it. The smell made her happy and sad all at the same time. She took off all her clothes leaving just her panties on and danced around a little. She put his t-shirt on and went back out to the living room and played more music, sang, danced and played the piano...and drank. She went back to his bedroom to fetch her clothes and leave, saw the queen sized bed, crawled on top and passed out.

House was tired. The plane had been delayed and he was getting home at 1:00 a.m. He walked in and saw his musical instruments spread all over the living room floor along with CD cases. His new bottle of whiskey was half empty. _Is Wilson here?_

House went into the kitchen and then came back to the living room. He felt like he was living a modern day version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. _I wonder where Goldilocks has gone?_ He hung up his coat and started down the hall. He flipped on the light in his bedroom and saw a little blonde woman laying in his t-shirt on his bed. He couldn't see her face but knew she had to be Goldilocks. He got undressed, noticed the whiskey glass on his night stand and sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. He took off his pants and got under the covers. He could smell the whiskey wafting off of her. He could see she was passed out and dead to the world. He lifted the t-shirt up for a good look at her breasts, smiled and went to sleep.

Chapter 11

The Cat's Back

I woke up slightly drunk and aware of the fact that I wasn't in my own bed. I could hear someone snoring but my eyes and head hurt so bad it was hard to open them to see. I finally managed to get one open and realized I was laying on top of the covers of someone's bed. _Is it a John? _I turned towards the snoring and tried to focus. I saw the beard first and then the profile of his nose. His mouth was open and he was loud. House! I let out a short but loud squeak._ Oh my God, I passed out in his bed!_ House snorted as he was startled from sleep by my squeak.

'Huh?" He yelled out.

I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh. He was trying to wake up, figure out what was going on, just as I had a few minutes ago. I quietly tried to back off his bed in the hopes he would just go back to sleep but one blue eye latched onto me.

He laid his head back down. "Good morning Goldilocks."

"Welcome back. I'll just get my things and get going. I fed Steve. He's in good shape."

"My living room looks like someone had a private party last night."

I flashed on last night and realized I had left a mess. I was embarrassed, "As soon as I find some pain killers I'll clean it before I go. Do you have any pain killers...aspirin?"

He reached over and threw me his Vicodin bottle.

"That's a little heavy for me, do you have naprosyn?"

"Yeah, in the cabinet out in the kitchen."

"Thanks. I'm sorry about this. I don't normally breach someone's trust. I had some bad news and I just wanted a drink. I got carried away. I really feel bad about this, really."

I guess House felt sorry for me. "What was the bad news?"

"My aunt is in the hospital, she's terminal. I don't have the money to go back and see her." I shook my head like I was trying to shake the thought out of my head, "I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Look, you go back to sleep, I'll pick up your living room and be out of your hair."

I started to leave his room but turned and looked over my shoulder, he had rolled to his side to purposefully watched my butt as I walked out of his bedroom. I got to the kitchen and quickly realized that he had followed me into the kitchen and watched as I was trying to find the cupboard with the naprosyn. He went over to the other side, pulled it out and gave me the bottle.

"I feel like I have a marching band in my head and mouth. Ugh."

He gave a little chuckle and said, "Go take a shower, it will make you feel better. There's a new toothbrush in the drawer in there." he paused and looked at me with a grin, "and leave my t-shirt where you found it. Go on, I promise not to do anything nasty while you're in there."

I took the naprosyn and went in to the bathroom and started the shower. I was wondering if he might join me. I could imagine his hands exploring my breasts and body and him kissing me deeply, but he was true to his word and didn't come in. I thought about storming through the bedroom door and grabbing him. But I realized that there were too many things to consider before doing something impulsive and wreck less, too much water under the bridge.

I did feel better, especially after brushing my teeth. I wondered what I should do with my new toothbrush. In a defiant gesture, I hung my toothbrush up in the holder next to his and smiled. _He'll think of me when he sees that there._

I slipped back into the bedroom and he wasn't there. Walking down the hall I saw that he had picked up the instruments. I heard him laughing in the kitchen so I went in to see what he was doing. He was sitting with a laptop laughing his butt off. He looked up and over the edge of the laptop monitor and said, "Now this was worth the wait. I especially like this little dance." He hit enter and turned the laptop around for me to see.

The screen was split into three with the largest screen on the bottom, a camera on three different rooms. There I was in the right upper quadrant, you could barely see me in the corner of his bedroom, digging through his dirty clothes hamper. My butt is up in the air as my head is briefly dunked into what was obviously his dirty clothes. I'm singing, "Missing You." I grab a t-shirt and pull it out and dance around the room, singing and smelling it. Then I'm dancing on his bed and stripping, my breasts bobbing as I dance in just my panties. I turn the t-shirt back from outside-in and put it on. All the time I'm singing and dancing. "...in your world I have no meaning. So I'm trying hard to understand. It's my heart that's breaking down this long distance line tonight..."

I could feel my entire body blush, "God, Greg, I'm so embarrassed. I don't know who that woman is. I was really, really drunk and stupid. Please forgive me."

He looked at me like I just took all the fun out of it. "Do you think I really care if you run around, drink my whiskey and dance? I had hoped you'd go through my drawers, rifle my papers, invade my privacy, but you didn't."

"I wanted to, but I remembered you didn't want me going through your locked drawer at work, so I decided to curtail my criminal activities. I really am sorry about this..." I pointed at the screen.

"Don't be, I'll always treasure it. Look for it on My-Space."

I just grinned. He poured me some tea, "I know you don't drink coffee very often, I figured I'd be safe with tea."

I looked at him in just his boxers and his hair mussed and wondered why he had bothered to get up. He liked to sleep. I was just about to drink the tea straight down and leave when he said, "The crew races are today down on the lake, want to go watch?"

I really wanted to sleep off my hangover, but I figured he was trying to hand me an olive branch and for the sake of the department, I should accept it. "Sure, but I'd like to change and check on my aunt."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Leukemia."

He said nothing but gave me a sympathetic nod and sad face. He looked around the kitchen, "I'm hungry and don't have any food so let me get a shower and we can go to breakfast."

"Okay."

He came out about fifteen minutes later in a t-shirt and shorts. He really did have nice looking legs. He grabbed a ball cap and we drove first to my place. He came in and looked around the studio apartment. He went over and picked up my photo of me and my Mom and my aunt. I was undressing and putting on my clam diggers and little t-shirt that said, "Rehab is for Quitters." He smiled when he saw my shirt.

"Your Aunt?" He asked picking up the photo.

"On my left, my Mom on my right."

"Is your Mom with your aunt?"

"No, she's dead, lung cancer. She was a smoker." I started lathing on the sunscreen and then threw it to House and he put some on. I put it in my purse for later.

"Sorry."

"I'm ready. I grabbed a white ball cap with the PPTH logo and pulled my pony tail through the back of it. I topped it off with my white hoop earrings, shorter heels, and white hobo purse. I put a bottle of water in my purse and we were out the door. I knew he had restrained himself from turning my apartment inside out and I appreciated that.

He shook his head at me.

"Problem?" I asked.

"You look hot."

"Thanks!"

We went to Mama's Kitchen and had breakfast. He had some big-ss eggs and bacon breakfast. I had blueberry pancakes. We talked about, and I still can't believe this, quantum physics! We both had our own pet theories about time and singularities, so it made for a lively debate.

"You know, in another universe we never had a fight and we're still doing each other. In another we're married and have four kids." I said.

He smiled widely as he put hash browns into his mouth. "Yeah, and in another Universe I took out a gun and killed you. And four kids? There's no universe where I would have four kids. Two max, but not four."

"Ouch! That's cruel."

"No, you turning me down for that Saturday night was cruel."

"Drop it. I'm having a good time, let's not get into that, okay?"

"Yeah, well Helen Bonham Carter called me the other day and begged me to take her back. I said no, not until she got herself into a smoker's rehab."

"Poor Helen."

We left and drove over to the crew races, watched them for several hours. I rooted for UCSD, my hometown team. He thought I was a traitor and I have to admit he drowned out my hoorahs with some pretty mean retorts. "You call that paddling? I gave my girlfriend a better one this morning." I tried to hide my face but it didn't stop people from staring, thinking I must be the girlfriend.

At around 2:00 p.m. we went in search of food at the booths set up throughout the launch area. He bought me the most disgusting hot dog and diet coke, but I was hungry and I ate it.

"I think I just ate the entrails of a skunk." I said.

"No, I did. You just got their testicles." We were laughing when his face went cold and then sad. I turned around and saw the woman with high arched eyebrows and new it was an older version of the woman in the photo I had seen in his desk.

"Stacy?" I asked.

He nodded yes, "And her husband Mark."

"Want to leave, they're coming this way."

"It doesn't matter. She's already seen me. She'll just assume that I'm an unhappy misanthrope with no one to love and feel sorry for me. He'll gloat because he has her and I don't."

Now, I know that when I dress right, I'm hot and today, I'm hot. I had been getting appreciative stares all day. So I took pity on House. I've been in his position myself ...seeing that the ex is in a better place than you hurts. And the last thing you want them to know is how miserable you are. I watched them walk towards us and just when the four of them got to a point where I knew they would have to recognize House I grabbed his face, pulled him down and gave him the most erotic and sexual kiss I could muster. At first he wasn't doing anything and I was beginning to think it had been a bad idea. But then his mouth and whole body responded and I do mean his whole body. It ended up being one of those kisses where half the population stops to watch and the others says, "Get a room."

We pulled apart and House looked up. Stacy was smiling one of those, 'Well isn't that cute' smiles. I acted like I hadn't noticed her before and played dumb.

"Hello Stacy." House said. He turned to Mark, "Hello Mark." He put his arm around me. "Honey, this is Stacy and Mark Warner. This is Reagan Grogan."

"Glad to meet you. How do you know Greg?" I purposefully asked to give her the impression that he never talked about her.

House snickered, "Stacy and I lived together for five years."

"Oh, right. You did mention that briefly. Well, I can see why, you're very pretty." I said sweetly.

Mark blurted out, "So are you." I gave him a nice smile.

Stacy introduced us to the couple they were with and asked if we wanted to join them while they watched the next race. I spoke up, "That would be great, you can tell me what Greg was like when you were together."

House was shell shocked. He obviously didn't want to be around them at first, but then he warmed up to the idea. We found a dockside table at a restaurant to have drinks and watch. I sat between Mark and House. Stacy was on the other side of House and the other woman, Mary, was next to her. House had his arms draped around my shoulders. When the waiter came, House ordered my drink without even asking me, as if we had been going out for awhile. I was getting a Mojito, which I love, so no complaints except that I really didn't feel like drinking. I put my hand on House's upper thigh, my fingers resting close to his crotch. I knew Stacy could see it. I kept talking to Mark, engaging him in conversation and laughing at all his stupid jokes.

House excused himself to go to the bathroom. Stacy went into interrogation mode. Now I've been interrogated...in the Pen there's an investigation every five minutes...so I was ready. "So, _Reagan_. How long have you known Greg?"

I didn't lie because I knew she would ask House questions based on what I said when he got back. "Three months. We met at the hospital when he complimented me on my outfit."

"Is it serious?"

"I guess you'd have to ask him but my toothbrush is hanging right next to his in his apartment so I guess you could say that. We see each other nearly every day."

"Well, it's only been three months."

"True, but he expects me to be around for a long time. He even had me meet everyone at work. I feel like part of his team. Cuddy said she fire him if he didn't treat me right, isn't that sweet?"

Stacy's mouth was pinched together. Mark asked me, "Do you think you might get married?"

"Well," and I smiled broadly, "Just this morning we were debating on the number of kids we would might have. I said four, he said two max."

Her face went white and all pretense of being nice dropped away. "He wants to have kids with you?" She asked with the voice of a sad little girl.

Now I felt sorry for her, "We were just bantering back and forth. I said four, he said two."

House joined the table again and everyone stared at him. He took a deep breath, "Did I forget to zip up?" He looked down at his shorts.

"I was just telling Stacy about our conversation this morning. I said four children and you said..." I held my hand out to House for him to chime in.

He remembered the quantum physics discussion, smiled and said, "Two, max."

I smiled at her and Mark. I could see that this was difficult for her to take. That some other woman might have his children was the ultimate blow. I had hoped it wasn't too much.

Mark piped in, "Reagan was telling up you met her at the hospital."

"I noticed the outfit first, then Reagan. Can I get another drink?" House was starting to feel a little uncomfortable with the discussion so he changed it.

When we left, he asked me, "What happened back there?"

"She asked where we met. I said the hospital. She asked if it was serious. I told her we spend a lot of time together, almost every day. Mark asked if we were going to get married. I simply said that just this morning we were discussing how many kids we would have. End of conversation."

"You are ornery. Just enough of the truth but out of context. I love it. Let's go to the movies. I was going to go see, "Life According to Brian" at the arts cinema. It starts in forty minutes."

"Oh yeah! I love John Cleese...I love Monty Python. But I need something to wear in the theater, I get cold in a/c."

"I have a sweatshirt in the car."

We saw the movie and it let out around 8:00 p.m. It had been cold in the theater and I was glad I had grabbed House's sweatshirt. As soon as we hit the sidewalk I started sweating so I took it off and carried it. We were doing our best imitations of scenes in the movie and so I wasn't paying attention when we crossed the alley. The young, obviously high on crack, guy with the rather large knife, seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Hey you! sshole. B!tch, give me yo' money." He was brandishing the knife in a menacing gesture, one he had probably seen on television. I thought it was straight out of a Chuck Norris episode. He should have thought it through because the knife wielder in that episode got his butt kicked.

House started to reach in his pocket for his wallet and money. I held my purse close to my body and said, "F3ck you." With as much disgust as I could. "You think I'm letting you take my hard earned money so you can buy some tits and get high? Go get an enema d!ckwad."

I looked at House and I wasn't sure who he was more afraid of, me or the kid. "Reagan, may I point out that he has a knife." House turned to the kid, "Look, she's just kidding, SHE'LL GIVE YOU HER MONEY." He said it loudly for my benefit.

I turned towards him, "Give him yours but he's not getting mine."

"Lady, I'm not playin' here...it's been a long time since my last fix and I don't give a sh!t what you think you're doing, but you're going to give me your money or I'll hurt you and cut up your face."

"I'm not afraid of a knife...now if you had a gun..."

"Reagan! Give him your money, he's not one of your tricks that you can charm," House said nervously.

"Shut up House." I pulled the purse closer to me defiantly. In the meantime I was quietly wrapping my right hand in House's sweatshirt. The kid stabbed at me and I literally grabbed the blade of the knife with the sweatshirt, tugged it quickly and kicked his balls all in one move. I had the knife and he fell on the pavement rolling in pain. started kicking him and then stomped in his groin so hard that I fell back on my butt. By this time, House had his cane at the guy's throat. I took the knife and was about ready to plunge it, just as I would have plunged a shank at the Pen, but House grabbed my arm.

"Aren't you getting a little carried away?"

The guy was rolling in pain, "You crushed my balls, you crushed my balls you slut."

I backed off just as sirens came around the corner. Someone must have seen it and called it in. I had the knife in one hand and House was standing with his cane on the guys chest. He was in too much pain to get up and run.

The police took us in to get a statement while the twenty year old kid went to the hospital. Within minutes of reaching the police station we were separated and I knew then that they had run a rap sheet on me. I was thrown into an interrogation cell and two detectives came in.

"Well Reagan, we called your probation officer. A felon with a knife? Bad girl. Now why don't you tell me what you were really doing in that alley? That kid says you jumped him , demanded drugs and money."

"I'm going to tell you once and only once what happened and then I want a lawyer." I proceeded to give them a blow by blow account of the incident. After I was done I looked up and saw Ken outside talking to another detective. Ken kept looking in at me. House was standing off to the side watching all of this and being questioned by a detective. They made me stand and in full view of House they handcuffed me and sat me back down. I almost died of embarrassment.

Chapter 12

Jailbird

House and Reagan were politely placed in the back of the unmarked sedan and offered a ride to the precinct house. House was familiar with the station. His old nemesis, Detective Tritter, worked out of it. At first everyone was polite but then House saw a detective motion one of the detectives over. He had a paper printout of something in his hand. The detective went over, he looked at the sheet and then at Reagan. House was pretty sure Reagan's color changed from a healthy pink to an ashen white.

"Excuse me, Ms." The detective looked at the sheet of paper, "Ms. Grogan, can you come with us?"

Without saying a word she got up and went with them. House thought that odd, he never knew Reagan to do anything without asking questions or giving lip.

The detective with House took a call and while he was on the phone House could see the detectives crowding around Reagan in the interrogation room. They were both talking, no, more like arguing with her. She was angry and obviously told them something. They made her stand. House was getting nervous, something was wrong, desperately wrong. They cuffed Reagan and House felt his blood pressure rise and and his heart rate go through the roof. _Did she give them some lip? Christ, first she talks back to a guy with a knife and now the police? She's my kind of woman._

A tall man in his late thirties, dressed in a pinstriped shirt and Dockers walked in and from the way he looked at Reagan, House could tell he knew her. One of the detective came out and talked to him. They both went back inside with Reagan and the other detective. The pinstriped man began talking to Reagan who was calmly answering him.

House turned to the detective on the phone, "What's going on?" The detective ignored him. House pushed down on the receiver buttons of the phone, cutting the detective off.

"HEY!" The detective yelled at him.

House yelled back, "What's going on?"

The detective looked over his shoulder and saw the crowd in the interrogation room with Reagan. He got up and went into the interrogation room and came out smiling.

"Dr. House, are you sure your girlfriend in there didn't start this whole thing and that it was a drug deal gone bad? We know about your drug problem. Your girlfriend spent five years in the Federal Pen for drug smuggling." He paused and waited for House's reaction, "You don't have to worry, she's already spilled her guts. She told us how you two went out to score some drugs from the kid and when he didn't cooperate, she pulled the knife and you two beat him up. So, why don't you give us your version of it?"

House was reeling from the news that Reagan had been in prison for five years. But one thing he did know, Reagan typically told the truth and she'd never confess to something she didn't do. House laughed at the detective.

"Dude, I have our cinema stubs, it happened like we said. Oh, and my girlfriend can kick your girlfriend's ss."

"Well, your girlfriend in there broke her probation. She's going back to the Pen for being caught with a knife in her possession with the threat of great bodily harm. If you don't want to tell us the truth, go ahead and sign the statement we took earlier and you can go... for now."

House stood up and started yelling, "But it wasn't her knife, she took it away from that drugged out sshole."

"Dr. House, your girlfriend in there busted one of the guy's balls. He's only got one left. She's in a lot of trouble. Go home; she won't be getting out tonight . She won't be getting out for a long time."

House walked as fast as he could over to the interrogation room and banged on the window with his cane. "It wasn't her knife! It wasn't her fault! Jesus Christ, she was protecting herself, she was protecting me!" He was yelling over and over. Reagan just sat quietly with her head hanging down, unable to look at him. Ken stepped out.

"Are you Dr. House?" He said extending his hand to shake. "I'm Ken, I'm on Reagan's side."

House eyed him suspiciously. He shook his hand. "We were attacked, she took the knife from the guy. It wasn't her knife."

"I know that, but the guy who attacked you doesn't have a rap sheet and she does. Look, I'm going to get the public defender up here as soon as possible but it's a Sunday and the earliest she can get out is Monday afternoon. Why don't you go home. I'll stay with her until they take her to jail."

"Who are you exactly?"

"Her probation officer."

"Why was she in prison?"

"You didn't know? She told me that she didn't lie on her employment application, I hope that's true."

"I never saw her application. What was she in for?"

"She flew from Ecuador to Los Angeles with some coke in her luggage. But, I've worked with her for a year now and I'm a pretty good judge of character and I think she was framed by her boyfriend. He put the coke in the luggage and then booked a different flight. When she was arrested he disappeared. I don't think she knew she had it."

House felt like he just fell down the rabbit's hole. Nothing was making sense. "I'd like to talk to her."

"I can arrange that but you can't be alone with her."

He nodded. They went to the door of the room.

Ken gave the two detectives a wave, "Hey guys, give them a minute. I'll babysit."

The two detectives left the room. Ken and House walked into the interrogation room.

"Are you okay?" House asked her in voice that was so gentle she wasn't sure it was him.

She tried to get up but lost her balance because of her arms being cuffed behind her. She fell back into her chair and sighed. She looked up at Ken and then over to House.

"I'm so, so sorry." Her eyes teared up. "I never wanted you to see me this way." The tears started racing down her cheeks. "I don't want you to stay. Please leave. Go home. Just leave, I'll be fine. If they send me back, it's not that bad where I'm going. Tell everyone at the hospital that I'll miss them."

House was stunned, she was talking like she was guilty and had been sentenced, "What the F3ck are you talking about? You're innocent and we're going to get you out of this mess."

"I've been innocent before Greg and I can tell you from experience, Justice IS blind. These detectives want a collar and arresting a drugged out twenty year old versus sending a felon back to prison is a no brainer to them. They get more points for putting me back in prison."

House looked at Ken for confirmation, "She's right. The system rewards cops who send felons back into the system. It's just the way it works." Ken shrugged.

"Bullsh!t. I'm going to hire you an attorney and he'll..."

"NO! I won't let anyone else hire attorneys for me. I'll be fine with the Federal Defender, just go home Greg. The longer you're here the more I hate myself. Please go home."

House looked at both of them. He was frustrated and furious, but he could see she meant what she said. Her tears had dried and now she seemed resigned to her fate.

House couldn't believe this. It was so Catch 22. He looked at Ken and then at her, stood up and grabbed his cane and turned to leave.

"Greg!" She yelled after him. He turned around. "For what it's worth, I had a great time today. Thanks. It's something that will help when I'm back inside." She smiled and tears started up again.

House had to resist running back in and holding her. He said nothing. He turned and left, feeling like he was drowning in a river.

House hired her a lawyer anyway. She called House after she went to see Reagan early Monday morning, "She's refusing to let me represent her. She's pretty scrappy isn't she? Dr. House, this smells...I looked at her file and it just doesn't make sense. She was put in prison for smuggling, not a violent felony, and she was a model prisoner. I believe her. I don't think a jury is going to buy the kid's story but she'll be in jail for quite awhile waiting to prove it."

House felt sick to his stomach. "I'll try to talk her into letting you represent her."

He went down to the women's jail and waited at a table in a room with bare walls and dirty floors. Reagan was brought in, looking smaller and more petite than usual. She was swimming in the bright orange jail apparel.

"You look lovely in that shade of orange."

"Why are you here? Please go home, please don't try to help me. People who help me just end up with more headaches than it's worth. Please Greg."

"Bite me." He said gently and then smiled. "I'm going to break in to your home and get some paperwork for the attorney. She needs your prison release documents and felony case file. She said you probably have a copy of it at your apartment."

Reagan gave up fighting him. She knew House and alsoknew that he wasn't going to give up. "In my bottom dresser drawer. Can you pick up my mail too and take it in? You'll find a key taped under the third step going up. I don't want you breaking the lock."

"The attorney says their case is weak and she doesn't think it will fly but you may sit in here for awhile."

"That's good. That it's weak I mean."

"I'm sending her back tomorrow and you're going to let her represent you or you can forget your job when you come back."

She chuckled, "Okay." She still had a hard time looking him in the eye.

"Why are you avoiding looking at me?"

"All this time I wasn't sure if you knew about the felony; you never mentioned it. I put it down on the application, but Ken said you didn't know. I should have suspected. If you had read it you would have taunted me and teased me about it. I feel like a fraud. Like you've seen me as one person and now that's a lie."

"Do you think I give a flying F3ck about your time in prison? Other than it is kind of hot and I keep jerking off to visions of you in handcuffs. It just explains a lot about you. Now I know why you can't get another job, why you ... you know. And just so you know, that's going to stop too. That could add time onto your sentence and so it stops today."

"Don't tell me what to do."

He smiled, the Reagan he knew was starting to poke her head out. "It's not an option."

"Then you can keep your attorney. I won't be owing to anyone. I won't let you control me just because I let you hire me an attorney."

He put his hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. "You are incorrigible. Okay, don't take the attorney, but you're still going to stop street walking."

"I'm not having this conversation, especially with you. You're a John...you support what I do. Until you stop being a John, then you can't tell me to stop turning tricks."

"We'll talk about this when we spring you from jail."

At the arraignment on Monday afternoon she had been remanded without bail because she was considered a flight risk; she had no contacts with the community except for her job. House went to her studio on Tuesdaym found the key, retrieved her mail and went inside. There was a mailgram from a bank in California notifying her that her aunt had died on Saturday and they were taking over her estate as trustees. Her aunt was being cremated and the memorial was being held Wednesday. House knew that this news was going to crush her.

He went to see her on Wednesday, "I have bad news for you, I'm sorry." He handed her the mailgram.

She started crying, sobbing. She put her head down on the table and cried some more. House went around the table and put his arm around her. A guard came over. "Back to the other side."

House handed him the mailgram and the guard said, "Okay, two minutes and then you're out of here."

House grabbed a chair and pulled it next to her, picked her up and held her head to his chest. She clung on to him like a raft in a storm. He kissed the top of her head. House squeezed her hard and realized their time was just about up. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped her tears.

She looked at him and started laughing, "Who still carries Hankies?"

"Obviously, sophisticated, intelligent men do. They're going to kick me out soon. Is there anything you want me to do?"

"No, but thanks. Thanks for everything Greg. You've been a good friend."

He laughed at her, a good friend. He pulled her chin up and kissed her deeply. She kissed back. "You're my favorite jailbird but you smell like a urinal."

"Thanks." She said sarcastically.

"All right, that's enough, break it up you two. Time to go." the guard nodded towards the exit.

He kissed her quickly on the mouth and then got up to go. She was sitting in her orange outfit with red puffy eyes and red nose and he still thought she looked sweet.

He went back to her apartment and listened to her voice mail. Two guys, Calvin and Peter kept asking where she was and why she hadn't shown up. He called them both back using their caller I.D.s.

"I'm sorry to inform you but your favorite hooker has retired. She's hung up her corset and garter belt. Time for you to deal with your wife. Thank you."

House told everyone, including Cuddy that Reagan's aunt died and she had to fly out to handle her estate. Cuddy was fine with it as long as House was. House told Wilson the truth.

"She's a hooker and a felon? How well do you know this woman?"

"Well enough that I hired her an attorney."

"OH-ho! You spent your own money on an attorney for a woman? The Goth Tart?"

"Your point being?"

"Just that you rarely part with your money. You don't usually go out of your way to take care of people. Okay, the exception was Stacey. But this is so strange. I feel like savoring the moment.

"Can we focus on the problem? Her preliminary hearing isn't for another three weeks. She can't stay in there that long, she'll smell of urine on a permanent basis."

"Well, you're the detective. If the cops are so convinced she did it, I doubt they did a thorough investigation. Maybe you could snoop around?"

House thought about it and agreed. He forced Wilson to go to the theater with him. He took down the names of the people that remembered them being at the theater that night. Thank God Reagan had looked so hot and he walked with a cane. One pimple faced popcorn pusher told House, "Yeah, we couldn't figure out why such a sweet babe as her was with you. Sorry man, but that's why we remember you...because she was so hot and well, you're not."

House went down the street and looked around the alley to see if there were any apartments or any advantage points for a human to have seen what had happened. He almost hugged Wilson when he saw it. He elbowed him and pointed up. On a warehouse garage door in the alleyway was a camera. House was just praying it was working. He went around to the front and found it belonged to Max Out, an electronics store.

House asked the oldest person in the store which appeared to be a guy about twenty-five years old, about the camera, "Dude, there was a crime here last Saturday night and we need to see your surveillance tape from that day. Did you keep it?"

"It circulates and tapes over itself every week. So, if this is Friday, we probably still have Saturday's tape."

House was cautious. It would probably show nothing. As they played it back they fast forwarded until they reached the evening. At 8:00 pm it was just getting dark and they could see a figure, the druggie, come down the alleyway and wait in a doorway. You could tell that he heard someone coming because he came out of hiding. He starts to brandish the knife. Unfortunately, both House and Reagan were off camera. And then they saw it. Like a shiny beacon, the light was bouncing off the metal of House's cane. You could see House's hand, his cane and sneakers. House and Wilson smiled at each other. The kid lunged and the rest happened off camera.

Within half an hour, House and Wilson were in the lobby of the police station making quite a fuss. House had called Ken and Reagan's attorney, both of who were on their way to the police station.

House was talking to the cop at the front, "Get Detective Jansen and tell him that if he doesn't get the D.A. to release Reagan Grogan, she's going to sue them for false arrest. We have objective proof that she's innocent."

Within an hour, Reagan's attorney and the Probation officer were speaking privately to the Assistant District Attorney about releasing Reagan. When they emerged from the meeting they were smiling.

House jumped up and limped over to them as fast as possible. "Well? Is she getting out?"

"They called and had her released within five minutes of us showing the tape. She's being processed right now. You can go over and pick her up in about half an hour. We spent most of our time talking about a settlement."

"Settlement?"

"They wanted to see if they could head off a lawsuit by Reagan for false arrest. If she does sue they'll drag her through the mud, she'd have to take that into consideration."

House shook his head, "Right now I just want to get her home and give her a shower."

They all looked at him. Ken said, "I thought you were her boss?"

"I mean she stinks...I didn't mean me give her the shower." But of course he did mean that.

As they pulled up to the municipal jail for women they saw a petite blonde sitting on the steps in her white clam diggers and black tank top, white high heels. She stood up and went over to the car, leaned in and said, "Hey sailors, new in town?"

"I told you those days are over." House gave her a big grin and she got in back.

"God, it feels so good to be out. What happened? Did they let me out on bail?"

"Didn't they tell you?"

"No, I just got called up and was told I was getting out."

"The charges have been dropped. We found a camera that caught the guy on film. The D.A. is worried that you're going to file suit for false arrest. Seems their case was flimsy and they knew it...especially since they didn't even bother to properly investigate it."

"I don't want a lawsuit."

"Get an attorney and sue them." House said.

"Nah, they'll force you to testify and the whole prison thing will come out. I just want to go home, get cleaned up and go to bed."

"I have a bathtub and you don't. You need to soak that smell off." House turned and looked at her. "You look like you've had one of those lesbian encounters. Please tell us all about it."

"Sorry, no lesbian encounters. I did spend time with a bipolar woman. That was a roller coaster ride I don't want to go on again."

"No thanks." House frowned.

"Seriously folks, where am I taking you?" Wilson asked.

"My place." House and Reagan said simultaneously.

"I need to get cleaned up. I need clothes to change into. I need sleep."

House looked defeated, "Okay, her place."

Wilson pulled up to Reagan's apartment and they both got out.

"What are you doing?" Reagan asked House.

"I'm coming inside."

"Why?"

"I just rescued your butt, you owe me."

"And what do I owe you?"

"Your eternal gratitude and maybe you'll let me watch you take a bath?"

She ducked down to say goodbye to Wilson, "It's okay, he can stay. Thanks Jim, thanks a lot."

"Take care Reagan. Glad you're home." Wilson said.

"Thanks." Reagan turned to House, "Come on, let's get inside."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 13**

****

Friends with Big Benefits

I opened the door and thought my little studio smelled a little musty from being closed up. Mail was scattered on the table and the bed. Most of it had been opened and apparently given a good going-over. Within the mail was a letter from a felon girlfriend still in Dublin and my quarterly probation report. I felt that strange mixture of being exhausted but wired. Every muscle in my body was contracted so I started rubbing my neck. House came up behind me, removed my hand and kissed my skin where my hand had been. I was nervous about letting him do anything, I didn't really know where we stood. And his comment about me "owing" him kept going through my head. Owe? It was only natural that I would be leary, prison life is all about who you owe on the inside.

He said with some authority, "You're really salty. Grab some clothes, not too many because you won't be in them much, and let's get going."

"I'm not going anywhere, I'm going to bed."

"We agree that you're going to bed, but first I'm going to run you a bath. You're going to soak, I'm going to fix you dinner, you're going to lay down, I'm going to rub your feet and then you're going to go to sleep– after my lap dance."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of – that lap dance thing."

"I'm joking, now get your clothes and let's go. This place is musty."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing." A plastic bag full of clothes and toiletries packed, I turned to him and said, "But we both know that you aren't joking about that lap dance."

"Well, you don't have to dance too much, you could just sit there and let me feel you up."

"Oh, come on. I'm too tired to fight and that bath sounds great right now."

We got to his apartment and I followed him into the living room, flopped down on his sofa and put my head back. I heard him make his way back to the bathroom and start the bath. The water pouring out sounded so delicious. I couldn't wait to feel the water up aroud my neck. I got up, grabbed the plastic bag of clothes and went back to his bedroom. He was still in the bathroom doing something. After seeing that big bed in front of me, I didn't know which sounded better, a bath or bed. I took off my shoes, socks, and pants, then rifled through his drawer for a t-shirt. I was in my panties and bra when I went into his bathroom. It was so sweet, he had two pathetic aromatic candles lit for me, a fresh bar of Dove soap and a plastic cup. He had disappeared. Listening, I could hear him in the kitchen doing something. I took off my bra and turned to see him come into the bathroom, stop in his tracks and grin.

"You have a great set of knockers." He said as he handed me something. It was a mimosa with a strawberry in it. I wasn't sure how fresh a strawberry would be coming from his refrigerator, but at that point, I could care less. I sat it down next to the bathtub. He put the empty plastic cup next to the chair. I looked at him questioningly.

"In case you want to rinse your hair."

How intuitive and sweet! Staring into his lovely blue eyes, I slipped my panties off and slid gingerlya into the tub. Heaven. I looked at him and said, "Well? Are you going to stand there or are you going to get in?"

Moving faster than I'd ever seen him move, he put his mimosa down next to mine and stripped, climbing in behind me. I leaned back on his hairy chest and wrapped his arms around me. Something inside of me melted.

"Whew...your hair smells terrible. Get your hair wet." He ordered, breaking my romantic spell.

I slid forward and then dunked my head back. As I did I could look up into his blue eyes which were fixed on my breasts as they stuck out of the water. He was so predictable. I sat up, my hair dripping wet. Long masculine fingers reached in the corner of the tub and grabbed the Johnson Baby Shampoo. Pouring the shampoo in his palms, he started massaging it into the crown of my head, lathering it up as he did. It felt so calming and relaxing. I didn't want him to stop. After a few minutes of bliss, House took the empty glass and started to rinse my hair letting the water run slowly and gently over my head. I was starting to fall asleep. When he was done, I leaned back on his chest again. A washcloth appeared along with soap which he lathered and then started to wash my body with soft, slow moves that made every nerve in my body tingle. He touched me as if I were a china vase. When he was done he put his long arm across my chest and pulled me back into him. I fell asleep for a few minutes with him just holding me.

I woke to him kissing me lightly on my neck. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

I sat up, drank the last of my mimosa and stood up. I blushed red when I saw how dirty the water looked from the filth in my hair and on my body. But he didn't tease me. I stepped out, grabbed the towel he had left out for me and dried off. Greg did the same. I put on his t-shirt and my clean panties, combed through my hair. used my new toothbrush and was ready for sleep. The sheets on his queensize bed smelled like him making me grateful that I had agreed to come to his place. He crawled into bed with me, pulled me over to him and we spooned.

I woke up the next morning and he was gone. Taking advantage of his absence, I crawled over to his side and smelled his pillow; it made me smile. Then I remembered his web cams. I looked up to the general location of where it had to be and gave it the middle finger.

A minute later I heard the phone ring. I wasn't sure if I should answer. From the caller I.D. I could see it was PPTH so I picked it up.

"Hello?" My voice was raspy from just waking up.

"I see you're up and feeling better. You didn't have to flip me off. I was just admiring how gorgeous you are when you sleep. Did I just see you sniff my pillow?"

"Yeah, it smelled really funny."

"So you decided to lay your head on it to prevent the smell from wafting up?"

"Something like that."

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better. Why are you at work?"

"New patient. I got the call around 4:00 a.m. I'm surprised you slept through the call."

"Yeah, normally I'm a very light sleeper."

"I bet in the pen you sleep with one eye open so that you don't get shanked in the middle of the night...oooh or better yet, having some dyke play with your yoo hoo?" He paused, "Did someone in the pen play with your yoo hoo? I'm getting a little turned on here just thinking about you kissing another woman."

"House! For god's sake, I had no lesbian encounters. Do we have to talk about prison?"

'Yeah, of course we do. How hot is it that you're not only a hooker but a felon? Now if you could justadmit to that lesbian kiss it would make the perfect trifecta."

"I'm ending this conversation and going back to sleep." I held up a finger at the web cam.

"No, no, no..." he sounded like a little boy begging. "Stop flipping me off. Show me your breasts."

"No. How do I know that Chase and Foreman aren't standing behind your shoulders watching?"

"I wouldn't share that with them, at least not until they paid for the privilege of a peak. They're not here. Come on, this is the ultimate phone sex. You can describe what you're doing while I watch."

"Go back to your patient."

"We're waiting for the MRI results. Come on, pleeeeaaasseee."

I sat up in the bed and looked up, took off my top and laid back down. I put a hand on my breast and fondled it for him. I heard deep breathing.

"Oh, man. You don't know just how hot this is." He said and then I heard him swallow hard.

I stuck my hand under the sheet and pretended to place it between my legs.

"Come on, I know you're faking it. Just let yourself go. You can do it. Take the sheet off."

"No."

"I swear that there's no one in here with me. There better not be considering where my hand is and what I'm doing. Come on."

I pushed back the sheet and rubbed my thighs up and down. I admit, the sensation was tingly and sensual. The fact that House was watching added to it. I slipped my hand into my panties while the other hand fondled my breast. I played with myself and then started masturbating in earnest. I could hear his breath get shallower and faster. I came, closing my eyes and screaming. When I was done, I heard him, "Ah..ah...ah...oh man, what a mess. Crap, gotta go." Click. He was gone. I pulled the sheet up over me and thought how strange it was to have the technology to do that.

The dream I was having had nothing to do with sex, so I was a little confused when I felt hands on my breasts and then his lips on my belly. I opened my eyes and he was sucking on my nipples. Climbing up, he gave me an open mouth kiss, his tongue barely touching mine. I could feel his hard-on pressed against my thigh, an invitation to touch it. House stopped doing what he was doing and concentrated on the touch of my hand on his erection. He finally opened his eyes and looked at me, smiling so sweetly that I had to kiss him. He felt warm and both soft and firm. The kisses were hot and wet, increasing in their desire until he pulled me on top. I didn't ride him yet, torturing him by sliding down to lick his shaft while I used my thumb to stroke him at the bottom of his shaft. He watched and then closed his eyes as I straightened up and straddled him.

I remembered just in time, "Wait, we need a condom."

I reached over into the top drawer and pulled one out, taking it out of its package and handing it to him. He put it on and I climbed on top, immediately flexing my inner muscles around his shaft. A lopside grin spread over his face. I clenched as tight as I could while I rode up and down, occasionally grinding in a circle as I bounced up and down. Leaning over, he grabbed my breasts, pulling them into his mouth to suck while he bucked up and started thrusting. He held my ass firmly in place while he gave me several long, deliberate thrusts. There was a grimmace, his eyes crinkled and they both held their breath as he pounded up into her with four short thrusts accompanied by, "Oh fuck, fuck" before collapsing back into the bed. I couldn't resist, I knew he'd be really sensitive, so I clenched my muscles as hard as I could on his retreating erection.

He cried out. :No, no!"

I laughed.

He shook his head and groaned, "You minx."

I slowly pulled off of him and fell off to the side. His fingers explored by clit and then the opening to my sex. My nipples tingled,it felt so good. I lay still, letting him do all the work. Pumping his fingers in and out, his thumb played with my clitoris. When the orgasm came I started to thrust, my thighs and butt tight. I could feel the contractions and waves of pleasure start like a heavy sensation in my vagina and spread like fire through me. A long erotic moan escaped from my mouth. After the waves came to an end, I waited for him to withdraw his fingers, but just as I had teased him, he gave me a few extra thrusts, knowing I would be sensitive too. I pulled away quickly from his hand.

"You ornery boy."

"You deserved it." He kissed me.

I looked at the clock, it was noon. "God, did I sleep that long?"

"Yeah. Come here, don't get up just yet, I'm having a girlie moment, I need a cuddle."

I held him and smelled him and touched him and then I remembered. "You have that damn web cam going don't you? You just videoed us having sex, didn't you?"

"I honestly forgot all about it. I just saw a naked woman in my bed and had to have her."

I looked in his eyes and didn't believe him for one minute. "House I want you to erase it. Go get your laptop and erase it..._now_!"

"Okay, okay. God, a guy can't even get a cuddle these days."

He brought the laptop back and I saw that he had been taping for the last twenty-four hours. The tape erased every 36 hours unless saved by the user. He played back the sex and I have to admit, we looked hot together.

"Ah, please, can't I keep it? Don't we look good together? We fit so well. Look at your perky breasts. You'll have proof when you're sixty of how perky they were. And look how cute you are when you come. We could submit this to the porn industry as a screen test."

"Yeah, but look how ugly you are when you come. Erase it or I will."

"Please, I promise I won't share it or post it on _I fucked my _."

"Now."

He reluctantly hit the delete button and watched as it quickly disappeared. There was genuine disappointment in his expression.

"Don't be such a baby. Now, what about my little show for you this morning. Let's erase it too."

He was much more willing to erase the phone sex than the sex tape. His lack of resistence sent alarms off in my head.

"You've already saved this to your computer at work, haven't you?"

He looked guilty and I knew I'd have to erase it when I got to work on Monday. "Okay, one last thing. Empty your trash."

He was sure I wouldn't think to do that, but he didn't know jailbirds very well, we were good at covering our tracks.

"Please, please, let me keep it? I won't share, I promise. I'll just use it on cold winter nights."

I looked at him and smiled, "Why don't you just use the real thing?"

"Because I don't know from one day to the next how you'll feel about me. One night we're laughing and having a good time, the next thing I know you won't go out with me."

"Out with you? You didn't ask me out, you wanted to hire my...my yoo-hoo."

"You said you were short on money. I figured Saturday must be your big night to make some. I didn't want to take bread out of your mouth. So, I thought I'd pay you to date me...so you could eat."

Wilson had been right all along. House was just trying to be a good guy, for once. But how can any man be so clueless that he doesn't realize that by hiring me he makes me feel cheap and worthless?

"Did it ever occur to you that by hiring me you were sending a message that you wanted sex without strings, without having to get to know me, to deal with me as a human? When you pay for it, you get the whore. I desperately wanted you to ask _me_ out, just to go out with _me_...not my yoo-hoo."

I could see that he finally understood. His face seemed to get even longer and his eyes were pleading with me to try and understand him. He looked like a puppy that had just gotten his nose rubbed in pee. "I honestly didn't know. I had planned on paying the service and then taking you to dinner and a movie. If we had sex, great, but I just wanted your company."

Ok, I then made an amateur move. I shouldn't have let him see how I felt. I learned from Robert Jakes that once a man knows he's hooked you, you're his slave, but I couldn't help it, I started crying then sobbing. It must have thrown him for a loop because he didn't know what to do. He touched me like hot coals, very delicately and tentatively.

"Please tell me these are happy tears and not, 'it's too late tears'?"

"Oh fuck. It's been over six years since any man has said they wanted to spend time with me..._me. _And even six years ago the guy really wanted to spend time with my _luggage_, not me. I'm warning you House, I am clueless when it comes to relationships. Mine have all died unnatural deaths. You might want to run."

"Yeah, well I'm 52 and I've been so successful that I sleep alone most nights." He started stroking my hair. "You know, one thing we haven't discussed is your stupid heroics the other night. Next time, give the asshole your money."

"Oh give me a break, between my moves and your cane, I knew we could take him. I've dodged bigger shanks."

"I thought you were in a cosey happy farm for five years?"

"Oh, there were moments."

"From now on, you give them the money."

"But he only had a knife."

"Yeah and 9 times out of 10 the knife can kill you."

"Spoil sport." I said.

He laughed, "You crushed that guy's ball. You think he'll think twice before pulling a knife on a woman?"

"No, I think he'll bring a gun next time."

He started chuckling, then laughing.

"Ok, I'll bite, what?"

"You really are a ball buster."

"Yeah," I grabbed his, "and guess what I have in this hand."

"Be gentle, I've been very good to you."

I let go and grabbed him, giving him one of those, 'I'm so happy' hugs. He kissed the top of my head in return. I knew in my heart that none of this would last, that this could be gone with the blink of an eye, but I was damn determined to enjoy the feelings while I had them. It had been a long time since I had been happy, really, really happy.

I reached over, found the trash can icon on his laptop and emptied it.

"Oh, nooooo." House frowned and then swatted me on my butt.

"Does anyone know about my situation at work?"

"Just Wilson." He started to get up, "I'm hungry."

We got cleaned up and went out to a late lunch. On the way to the restaurant I grabbed my cell phone, but it was dead. I looked at House, "Can I use your cell?" He handed it to me, "I need to get my voice mails."

House winced. We pulled into the parking lot of the local café. After parking the car, he angled his body to face me.

"What's up with you?" I asked.

House was reluctant to tell me, "Well, I may have told a couple of your tricks that you were no longer available for hire; that they should patch things up with their wives."

I was floored, so stunned I couldn't talk. My body tensed and I leaned my head back. "What were you thinking? This isn't your life. It's mine. You just cut my income in half. I won't be able to make it!"

"Yes you will. We'll figure something out. What about your aunt? I thought you said you were her only family?"

"I am."

"Won't she leave you something?"

"I don't know, I don't care. I can't rely on dead relative's money to make it."

"Then come and live with me until you can find another, _legitimate _job. I'll pay the rent and utilities. It's the least I can do."

"And my thighs can just be at your disposal anytime you want a little fuck, right? Live with you? We're barely at a point where we're talking to each other again."

"Last woman I asked to live with me moved in five days after meeting her. She stayed five years."

"And left." I was looking out the window as the old couple in front of the car stopped and looked at us, then continued on to the front door of the restaurant, "I could try writing Harlequin Novels again, but that takes six months before I get my first check."

"Then live with me for six months and then you can leave, if you want to."

"I don't believe you." I sat shaking my head. "You know it's ironic, before I went to prison I would have jumped at the offer. I'd be packing to move in, but I'm scared now. I find it harder to trust my feelings, trust men. I want to believe in you and what you're asking me to do, but I've been there done that and did five years."

He gave me one of those House looks like I didn't understand; I was a moron, "Let's just jump off a cliff for once, see what happens."

"You're asking me to be a romantic. Been there, done that..gave five years of my life for that cause."

He grabbed me, "Listen to me, we're both gun shy, but don't you think at some point we have to pull the trigger?"

"I don't know, I wasn't the one shot."

"Kiss me."

What could I do? I had to make a huge leap of faith. I kissed him and the next day I packed my bags and moved in with Greg House.

****

Chapter 14

Taken for Granted

Monday arrived and Greg House was happy to be going to work. He was tired from moving all day Sunday. Reagan had done the lion's share of the move and was still working on unpacking. The furnished studio had been rented on a six month lease which had run out on July 1st. Now it was being rented month to month. She gave the landlord 30 days notice and over the next week she went back each day to get more of her things and to clean the apartment to get her deposit back. Ralph told her that if she ever wanted a rental reference, he'd give it to her.

Making room in House's apartment wasn't easy. In fact, there wasn't room for most of her stuff so House stored several boxes in his rented garage where he kept his car when he wasn't using his motorcycle. Reagan insisted he store some of his stuff too so that she could have easy access to her things. After a lot of debating, he stored his bicycle, rock climbing equipment, camping gear, things that he no longer used.

House loved her energy, he found it amusing to watch as she hustled around the apartment. He sat on the couch with the television turned on as a ruse, but he was really watching her unpack and trying to find room for her things. There had been a couple of tiffs over where she could put her books and clothes, but the tiffs were punctuated by makeup sex in the living room, kitchen, dining area and on the piano. Part of the reason he sat on the couch was to engage her, when possible, in an argument so he could then enjoy makeup sex.

"Why are you picking a fight with me over this? I just want to hang my photo of my mother, aunt and me. Is that too much to ask?"

"It's where you want to hang it. You want to take down my framed cocktail menu from Studio 54 signed by Andy Warhol."

"Yeah, I do. It's that or that strange piece of art on the side wall there."

"No, you can't hang it there. That strange piece of art cost me $4990."

"You were had. So, I suppose you want me to hang it in your bathroom?"

"_Our _bathroom. That sounds like a great solution."

"Bullshit, I'm not doing that. I'm not putting my family over the toilet. I don't get it, you ask me to move in and you won't let me make it my home too."

"Well, I didn't think you would want to strip me of Andy Warhol."

She stomped off into the bedroom and slammed the door. He smiled, _perfect. _Hobbling over, he took down the crappy art that really only cost him $49.90 and put up her photo. Then he waited. After a half hour she came out to get something to drink and saw the photo hanging up. She looked at him on the couch and was so moved by his gesture that she ran over and jumped on the couch, kissed him deeply and started taking her clothes off. House figured this was their fifth round of make-up sex in 48 hours. He had started stashing condoms in couches, chairs under rugs, anywhere he thought they might end up screwing. Wondering when she was going to catch on, he hoped it was soon; his pecker was starting to get a little raw and he needed to give it a rest. But she was so gloriously happy whenever they made up that she was even more committed to making the sex good for him. And the great sex made him so happy that he reciprocated.

"We need to get birth control nailed down. What exactly are you doing to prevent little Houses from being constructed?" He asked.

"I'm making sure you put on a condom. I was using the diaphragm but the sex has been too impromptu for me to find the time to use it. I can stop everything and go into the bathroom and insert it, but that will sure take the wind out of your sail, if you know what I mean."

"Why not the pill or the patch?"

"I have migraines."

"Crap. Okay, but just one time I'd like to feel you without latex."

"I thought you always used a condom, you keep telling the team that."

"For casual sex. If I'm monogamous, then we can dispense of it as long as we're both clear of STDs...which means we both need to get tested."

"I get myself tested every quarter and my results came back Friday. I'm clean as a whistle. Now you just need to get tested."

"Consider it done."

At work they tried desperately to act like they always acted so that no one would suspect. House was working long hours. Over the next month he had three patients come in one after another. Reagan could tell just from the distant look on his face that he was preoccupied with the fact that the current patient was slipping quickly. He was so preoccupied that he didn't see that Chase was reviewing websites on blood disorders because of the patient's abnormal blood counts.

Sighing, he stood in front of her desk and handed her a tape. "Here, chart notes. Oh, we need milk, can you get some?"

She looked at Chase who turned and looked at her. "Sure," Reagan answered.

After House left, Chase pounced. "We need milk?"

"Well how do you think the milk appears in that little refrigerator over there?"

"Thirteen and I buy it."

"Really? Hmmm. I wonder what happens to the milk I bring in?"

Chase looked amused. He rolled his pencil between his fingers and smiled, "Look. You two have been nice to each other. He doesn't watch you every minute of the day like he used to. He looks like he cares about what he wears...at least someone is taking his shirts out of the dryer and hanging them before they get wrinkled. He's happier and calmer and not as abusive. Even the breast jokes have decreased. And now he wants you to buy milk. Are you dating?"

"Chase, I really don't want anyone to know."

"I haven't shared my suspicions with anyone. Frankly, I'm enjoying the reprieve from his usual crap. So you _are _dating?"

I looked at him without expression, "Yes. We're dating."

"I don't know how you handle him."

"You'd be surprised. He's been good to me, really. He's different one on one. And he's good one on one. Really, really good."

House came back out to the office, "Chase have you found anything?"

"Not yet."

Unhappy with the answer, House disappeared in the direction of the elevator. As he did, a man with a camera and a woman with a notepad showed up in the office.

Chase looked up and registered curiosity, "Can I help you?"

"We're looking for Reagan Grogan."

Chase automatically glanced Reagan's way, diverting their attention to her. Foreman, Taub, Masters, and Thirteen came through the door, noting the strangers in the office. The woman walked over to Reagan's desk.

"Are you Reagan?"

Before Reagan responded to her question, she asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Daphne Langstrom and this is Simon Mirren, we're from the Enquirer. We were provided a security tape on DVD from Max Out electronics store. The owner said that this man attacked you and-" she paused to look at a notepad, "A Dr. Gregory House one night and that you singlehandedly took him out. We also discovered that until the tape was discovered, the perpetrator claimed you were shaking him down and the police took his word over yours because of your record."

House walked in and, sensing that something was wrong from the scared look on Reagan's face, barked, "Who the hell are you?"

"You must be Dr. House and his cane. We saw it on the DVD. Can we get a statement from you about the improper treatment of you and Reagan by the police? We understand that they refused to believe you guys because of Reagan's prison record."

Masters jumped up and left the office, running down to the first floor to get Dr. Cuddy and let her know that the press was in House's office.

"Out...get out." House picked up his cane as if he was going to strike the journalists.

"Hey, we're on your side. We're going to make Reagan a hero...she was a hero. If she hadn't been a felon, she wouldn't have been charged with assault and the additional probation charges.

House was furious, "_Out!_"

They started to leave. She put her card on the table, "Here Reagan, when you want to talk. But, don't kid yourself, we'll write the story with or without your input. It would look better if you said something. You too Dr, House."

They left. Reagan ran over to House and he put his arm around her. Foreman looked at Chase, noting that Chase didn't look surprised by House's display of affection.

Reagan broke away and went into House's office and sat down. House looked at the the team, "Well, we still have a patient dying_..get back to work!"_

House went in with Reagan. "Hey, it's okay, don't worry."

"Now Chase, Thirteen, Masters, Taub and Foreman know I'm a felon. And Masters just went running off to Cuddy."

"I know, Cuddy will...speak of the she-devil."

Cuddy eyes were wide and her jaw set. She pushed through the door, looked at Reagan and then at House. The team joined them.

"Where are they?" Cuddy asked.

House was calm, "They're gone."

Cuddy looked around as if she was trying to think things through, "Reagan, what is this woman talking about? Martha said she mentioned the police and that you have a criminal record."

House looked annoyed, "Reagan and I were walking one night, we were attacked by a guy with a knife. When _Reagan_ wouldn't give the junkie her money, he went for her. She took him down, busted one of his testicles and the junkie, who didn't have a record, claimed we attacked him in a bad drug deal. It was eventually sorted out, end of story."

"House, the Enquirer is here...there has to be an angle to the story that you haven't told me. Reagan do you have a criminal record?"

She looked at House and sighed deeply, "Yes, I was in prison for five years for smuggling cocaine. I know you're not going to believe me, but I was framed by my boyfriend, I went to jail and he went to well...somewhere."

"I can't let a felon, a drug smuggler, work at the hospital around drugs. Are you still on probation?"

"I was just released a week ago. Now I'm just an ex-con."

House was aggravated, "She put it down on her application. She didn't hide it."

"You did?" she asked, a tinge of suprise in her voice. Reagan nodded. "Well, I wonder why Sarah didn't tell me?"

"Please Dr. Cuddy, I need this job. I've been here five months and I've performed well, haven't I?"

"House hasn't complained. But if this gets out, the Board is going to wonder why we hired a felon drug smuggler to be a drug abuser's secretary."

House was finding it hard to control his anger, "She was framed, she doesn't do drugs, she doesn't sell drugs and she's good at her job. She didn't lie on her application, so why fire her?"

"Reagan, I like you. I hear good things about you. I'll give you a great reference and so will House, but you have to understand, if your story gets out, questions are going to be asked about us and why we have felons working at the hospital. I'm sorry, you have half an hour to get your stuff packed up. We'll cut you a check and have it waiting in human resources."

House couldn't hold it in, "You can't do this, she's my secretary."

"I can do this, and I promise you she'll get a good reference."

The team members were all visibly upset too.

"Dr. Cuddy, I just thought you should know what the Enquirer was saying. Is it really necessary to fire her now? Why don't you wait and see if anything happens?" Masters asked.

"Please don't make this harder than it is." Cuddy turned and walked out.

Reagan looked at Masters, "Thanks, you've finally got what you've wanted since I walked in here five months ago." Reagan walked back to her desk and started to pack up.

Masters followed her and in an agitated voice yelled, "I didn't tell her to fire you. I just told her that the Enquirer said you were a felon."

"Oh, you can't be that naive. You knew Cuddy would probably fire me if you told her. But it's okay. I think you really are sorry."

House was on the phone with a labor attorney who said that Cuddy had a right to fire Reagan. She was an "at will" employee and she could be fired for wearing pink if Cuddy wanted to do so. He threw the phone down and went out to Reagan's desk. Foreman and Chase were helping Reagan. The other team members had gone to check on the patient.

Reagan looked up at House. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, "You want me to take you home?"

"No, I can drive. Thanks."

He walked over to her and gave her a hug and a kiss, shocking both Foreman and Chase at this rather sweet display of affection.

"Okay, you two, get back to work on the patient." House growled.

Reagan went down and picked up her check and deposited it in her account. That evening House came home with pizza only to find her crying again.

Arm around her, he consoled her, "You'll be okay, I'll take care of you until you can find something else."

"I'm going to go home."

He pulled back and stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"I've tried so hard to get a job here, to find a way to make a living and everything I do falls apart. I'm going to go back to Los Angeles and see if my friends can help me."

"Is that it? What about us?"

"I can't take your money and I can't just sit around. You've taken away my night job and now I don't have a day job. I'm back to square one. It's as if I just got out of prison all over again."

"Oh boo hoo. Now you can start writing again. You can't complain that you don't have time. Start writing your romance novels."

"I don't know. I really don't like the idea of you supporting me until I can get the royalty checks."

"Let's watch Jeopardy and you can think about it."

For the next few days House would come home and find Reagan either in bed asleep or on the couch asleep. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know she was depressed. He wrote her a prescription for Welbutrin and brought some samples home for her.

"I don't want to take drugs. That's what the world expects of a felon."

"It's a prescription for anti-depressants. If you don't take it, I'll start making your life a living hell."

"Start?" She managed a smile and a hug.

That night they were lying in bed, her head on his bare chest and his arm around her sharing stories about their childhood.

"Your father was an assistant in the State Department? How come your Mom was broke when she died?" House started stroking her hair

"Dad left us when I was thirteen, had three more kids with the new wife. I never saw him except on my birthday. He would come over and drop off a gift. Once he took me to dinner for my middle school graduation, but that was just a ruse to tell me he was getting married and going overseas again. My mom didn't get much out of the divorce and worked long hours to make ends meet. She never complained so neither did I." She stopped and sighed, "You know she never said a bad word about my Dad, ever."

"She sounds too good to be true."

"She smoked."

"Ah, the tragic flaw." House chuckled. His fingers played with her hair, gently stroking the golden strands until he was pretty sure she was asleep from her deep breathing. He knew that even though he often found her asleep when he got home, she was only sleeping in dribs and drabs. She didn't sleep for more than an hour at a time. Sometimes when he would wake up from the leg pain, she would be watching television. He was worried about her. The drugs could make her sleep better and ease her depression, but she was losing her self-confidence.

He leaned down as she slept on his chest and whispered, "I love you Reagan."

She was drifting off to sleep feeling better now that he was home. His smell, his warmth, the hair on his chest, it all made her feel safe and protected. The last thing she remembered as her mind let go of the day was, "I love you Reagan." She wasn't sure if she replied out loud or just said it in her head, "I love you too Greg."

The next day Cuddy approached House and Wilson as they walked in. House refused to look at her.

"House, I had to do it. Her story is all over the paper now. Have you seen it?"

He grabbed the paper out of her hand and saw the article,

__

Ex-con Takes on the Bad Guys, Saves Local Doctor

_Police Take the Knife Wielding Drug Addict's Word over Hers_

_She Stays in Jail until Security Tape Verifies Her Story_

Reagan Grogan, 37, of Princeton, who served a five year prison sentence for drug smuggling, was released from jail last month after police discovered she was telling the truth about an attempted armed robbery which occurred on July 2nd. Grogan and her employer, Dr. Gregory House of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, had been walking to their cars when Denis Ottilie, 20, of Trenton, jumped out from an alleyway brandishing a knife and demanding money. Grogan refused to give her money to Ottilie who then attacked her with his knife. Grogan managed to disarm Ottilie and wrestle him to the ground, bursting one of Ottilie's testicles in doing so. Ottilie, who had a clean record, claimed Grogan and House were the perpetrators, turning violent when he would not sell them drugs. Because of Grogan's record, the police refused to believe her and placed her under arrest for aggravated assault and possession of a weapon in violation of her probation. Grogan spent a week in jail without bail until a security tape from the local electronics store proved her innocent. Grogan was released but, as a result of the arrest, lost her job at Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. Local civil attorney, Jonathan Belensky said that the actions of the police were grounds for a hefty civil suit and he felt Grogan had a good claim against the city. Grogan, who used to be an English professor, contested her original drug smuggling conviction claiming that her boyfriend had snuck the cocaine into her suitcase and that she had been framed.

House looked up at Cuddy, "It's pretty accurate for once."

Cuddy was wistful and somewhat sad, "I went back and looked at her resume, it was remarkable. She has a doctorate, had one serious novel and several Harlequin Novels published. Her novel was considered well-written by most of the critics. I'm really sorry I had to do what I did. We've already received numerous calls from the public, who apparently like someone crushing a knife wielding druggie's balls, suggesting we take her back. But I can't, the Chairman of the Board is against it." She turned to go and then stopped in her tracks, "Oh! By the way, congratulations on that Grant, I didn't even know you had put in for it. What are you going to do with the extra $80,000?"

"Grant?"

"The Laeki-Hasbro Grant. We just received notice that you're receiving it. Didn't you put in for it? I'm sure I have a copy of the grant application."

Wilson looked at House, "Did Masters submit it?"

"Let me see the application." They went to where the business files were kept and Cuddy pulled it. House snickered, "That looks like my signature, but it isn't. It's too good a forgery to be Masters, it must have been Reagan, she's got my signature down to an art." House said it right in Cuddy's face, with emphasis on the word "Reagan."

"I didn't say she wasn't a good employee. Well, if you see her, tell her thanks." Cuddy shrugged and left.

As Wilson and House got on the elevator Wilson turned to House, "Are you seeing her?"

"She's living with me."

"What? You're living with a woman again? I..I. I don't know what to say!"

"Silence would be advisable, anything you could say wouldn't be intelligible anyway."

"I think it's great! I like Reagan, she's smart and very sassy. She'll keep you on your toes. In fact, I think I feel sorry for you more than her. She won't take your crap and you, my friend will find yourself having to make changes that you've been avoiding."

"Yeah, well right now she's so depressed over losing her job I can't get her out of bed. Which normally would be a good thing, but isn't in this case."

"Do you love her?"

House frowned at his friend and looked away for a second, "What, you worried I won't have enough room in my heart for you? Don't worry Jimmy, you're my one true love."House ducked into his office leaving Wilson with a knowing grin, House was in love.

Regan had begun to write again and found it very cathartic. Rather than write a romance, she started telling her own story of drug smuggling, the trial, the sentence. She fictionalized it so that she could take liberties with the characters, but for the most part, it was based on her own life. She enjoyed writing followed by breaks to do housework or cooking so that she could think about her novel.

Reagan was finishing the burritos and putting them in the oven when she heard the doorknob click. A smile crossed her face automatically, House was home. More often than not when House got home he was grumpy. He wanted to be left alone, but Reagan, who spent most of her day alone, wanted company. Their clash over this issue had been the worst fight since she had started living with him several months ago. It was decided that she could say anything she wanted and solicit any answers she desired during the first five minutes he was home, but then she had to be quiet for an hour, unless he broke the silence or there was something urgent to attend to. It had worked well for them except for the day that House got home and Reagan was indisposed in the bathroom. She kept yelling out, "My five minutes don't start yet!"

"Yes, they do...I can hear you out here so talk away."

"No, it's not fair. I shouldn't have to poop and talk at the same time."

"Why not, you seem to be good at it."

"Greg!" There was a long pause and then a flush. She hurried, washed her hands and came out to the living room.

He looked at his watch, "You have two minutes left."

"Wait until you're having sex, I'm going to look at my watch and tell you that you have two minutes left."

"Well, that's one more than I need."

She tilted her head and looked at him,"Tell me about your day...quick."

"Cuddy came in this morning and told me that we received a second grant. This one for $50,000. I think she's starting to feel really crappy for firing you."

Reagan's eyes flew open and a smile flew across her face, "Grant? Which one?"

"Sorry, your time is up."

"Ahhhhhhh!" Reagan screamed, "That's not fair."

House put his finger to his mouth and sat down on the couch, turned on the television and began to unwind. Reagan brought him a beer and a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, homemade. He ate and then laid down on the sofa like Caesar reclining back. He motioned for her to come over. Climbing between his legs, she relaxed lying back on his chest. He leaned forward and belched in her ear. Reagan frowned and he laughed.

"Men are so disgusting sometimes."

"The Aura Grant."

"Oh yeah, I remember that. You have to submit a report in six months about your work on infectious diseases. You should assign it to Masters, she'd be anal about it."

House pulled her hair and told her to shut up. She laid back again and relaxed.

The next night Reagan spent time writing and making burriots which were in the over when House walked in. She watched House put his knapsack down by the front door and hang his cane from the molding by the front door. He came over and gave her a passionate kiss, so passionate that he was getting aroused. "What's for dinner?"

"Burritos. Hey you can't kiss me and then claim I only have four minutes."

He kissed her again, feeling her naked breasts through her t-shirt. He loved her breasts. They were so soft and round under his fingers. He put his hand down the back of her sweatpants and felt her ass. Smooth and round, he wanted to take her right there. An arm swept her into his groin as he finished the kiss. The topp came of and he pushed her up against the wall, sucking and kissing her nipples. House grabbed the band of her sweatpants and managed to pull both the pants and the panties down to her ankles. She unzipped his pants. exposing a thick, throbbing erection. Knowing his leg couldn't support a "knee trembler", screwing standing up, he pulled her down to the floor and penetrated her, her eyes wide and dilated with sexual desire.

"Greg, a condom, where's your condom?"

"You just had your period, we're okay." He leaned on his left elbow to take most of the weight off of her and guided himself to her opening. Using the tip of his penis he began stimulating her clitoris while sucking her breasts. He wanted to make sure she was wet enough to penetrate. Satisfied, he pushed her legs open even further and entered her. Reagan pulled her right leg out of her sweat pants so she could wrap her legs around his waist, pointing her pelvis up to take all of him inside of her. House could feel the muscles in her vagina as she rotated her hips a little to increase the friction. He danced inside her. Wet and warm, she clamped down on him as he started thrusting faster. It was hard work, she was tight, but by clenching her muscles she was even tighter. The feel of her vagina without a condom was incredible. His whole body wanted to come. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and could smell the shampoo and body lotion, a mixture of coconut, citrus and woodsy smells. Hunched over, he plowed into her faster and faster until the smells, the sensations, the feel of her flesh was too much. He came, ejaculating over and over while short animal grunts escaped.

Looking down into her eyes he managed to whisper, "I love you."

"I love you too, but I still have five minutes."

He smiled, shaking his head as he pulled out of her as gently as he could. Hisfingers slipped inside as he rubbed her clitoris with his thumb, while he searched for her G spot. It didn't take much manipulation before she started clutching him and turning her body towards his hand to continue the orgasm that was rocking through her. "Oh, oh...oh. Yes, that's it, that's it, oh, God, faster, yeah, yeah..." she let out a short scream and then it was over.

House rubbed his bad leg, "I have to get up, I'm dying down here." He looked at his watch. "Your five minutes are up." Using the arm of a chaire, he pulled himself to his feet, looked at her and chuckled mischievously. She was lying on the rug with no top and her sweat pants down around her ankles looking so small and sweet. He wanted to lie back down, but his leg wouldn't let him. He went into the bathroom to clean up.

Reagan thought of the wet semen on her thigh and inside of her and wondered what it would be like to have a child with Greg House. _Odd, that's for sure_. She yelled, "The least you could do would be to bring me a Kleenex."

"Bad leg." He yelled from the bathroom as she heard him pee.

She growled as she stood up and felt the semen drip out into her panties and down her leg. "Great, now I have to take a shower." She went in, got her clean underwear and started the showere, enjoying the warm water running down her back. He climbed in with her.

Reagan turned to face him, "So, tell me about your day."

"You're on my time."

She gave him a look of disapproval, "That's not fair."

"You could have talked to me while we were screwing."

"Just tell me what put you in such a good mood that you came home and attacked me."

"Seduced, I seduced you." He stepped out using the chair as an aid, "Masters French kissed me."

Reagan felt her blood pressure go up and her body flush, "_What? _Doesn't she know you and I are living together?"

"The only one who knows is Wilson and that's because we wanted to keep it a secret, remember?"

"That was when I was working there."

"I figure you're going to be working there again soon."

"Why?"

"We just got a $500,000 grant for my department which means I get that 60" LED television I wanted. Anyway, Cuddy came grovelling to talk to me. She looked like a nun in a strip club. She showed me all the grants that you applied for, there were five right?"

Reagan nodded yes.

"Well, each one has been awarded in the order they were submitted. You're 3 out of 5 so far and the other two haven't stopped accepting applications yet,so they're still up for grabs. Cuddy wanted to know if I thought you held a grudge against her. I told her that I would if I were you. I mean, you were a good employee, a model ex-con and she fired your butt. I loved the look on her face...I swear there were black feathers coming out of her mouth from the crow she was eating. She asked if I knew where you lived because she drove by your apartment and someone else lived there."

"Well, what did you say?"

"I said I didn't know if you wanted her to know where she lived, that I'd have to get your permission to tell her. She's really anxious to talk to you. Where's my burrito?"

Reagan went in and got it out of the oven, put it on a plate, spooned Pico de Gallo over it and handed it to him along with a beer. He took it over to the couch and sat down to eat.

"You know grant writers, if they're good, work for a percentage of whatever they bring in. Most of them make between 5-15 per cent on a sliding scale. Ten percent of what you just brought into my department would be $63,000. You might want to think about doing it for a living."

Reagan jumped up. "Oh my God! That's great, just great. I could do that...I'm good at it."

"No joke. Hey, is that jalapenos in the burrito?"

"Or course."

"How about another one?"

"Give me your plate."

"No, I mean another go at hiding the chorizo. That last one felt good and we haven't done a two-fer in a long time."

"I know, our sex life has slowed down a lot. Are you getting bored with me?"

"No, but if you have any little fantasy things we can play..."

"Well stay right there and don't come in the bedroom." Reagan ran into the back and rummaged through one of the unpacked boxes by the wardrobe. She pulled it out, it was a very sexy police woman outfit with cuffs. The shirt was too small revealing most of the breasts, the skirt too short, revealing her garters along with the lace top of the black stockings. No panties. Adding a hat and a fake night stick, she topped the costume off with three inch black heels. Before exiting to the living room, she ran some mascara over her eyeslashes and red lipstick over her lips. Looking in the mirror she smiled; she was ready for her close up.

What Reagan didn't know was that while she was behind closed doors, there had been a knock at the front door and both Cuddy and Masters were standing in the living room talking to House about two separate subjects. Masters had come about a patient's diagnosis and Cuddy had tagged along to see if House would relay to Reagan a job offer. House was sitting on the arm of the chair listening to Cuddy grovel.

"We'll pay her minimum wage, plus 5 percent of whatever she makes for the hospital plus benefits, all retroactive to when she was let go."

"You mean, fired. And she won't do it for anything less than 15 percent."

"15 percent? Only the guys who have been doing it forever get 15 percent. Ten, I'll go up to ten percent"

House bent over close to Cuddy's face and said firmly "Fifteen and nothing less."

"Who are you, her manager?"

Just then they heard the bedroom door open and a voice sing out, "Alright buddy, up against the wall and spread those long legs. I need to strip search you and to do that I'm going to cuff and pat you down." Reagan turned into the living room and stopped dead. Surprisingly, she didn't feel embarrassed. In fact, she felt a little superior to the two women with her big nightstick in her hand and the hot outfit. "I guess you can relax Greg; I'll have to search and cuff you later."

House had a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. The idea that he had been caught in sex play was hot. Cuddy and Masters couldn't move, couldn't speak. They couldn't even close their mouths.

Cuddy finally blinked and managed to ask, "So, Reagan, did House tell you about the grants?"

Reagan stood slamming the night stick into her hand over and over, "He mentioned something to me. Are you here to offer me a job?"

House broke in, "You get minimum wage plus 15 percent and benefits. Right?"

Cuddy looked at Reagan in her outfit and realized that having a hot grant writer would certainly be a plus when she had to pitch her grant submittals. Besides 15 percent of something was better than 0 percent of nothing. "Yes, that's right. What do you say Officer Grogan?"

Reagan grinned and walked over to House, put her arm around his waist and asked him, "What do you think honey?"

"Why not?"

"Okay, you have a deal." She said.

"Masters, run another cat scan but this time scan the liver and do another blood workup, I think it's going to show up now. I'll come in..." he looked at Reagan, smiled and shook his head like she was too hot, "I'll be in in about an hour or so."

Cuddy snickered. "More like ten minutes. We'll see you back at the hospital."

Masters, bright red, just nodded and then the two ladies left. House and Reagan fell on the couch in a heap, laughing and crying at the look on their faces. "You know Masters will tell everyone."

"Thank God, I'll be envied by every guy in the hospital. Now, did you want to cuff me from behind or in fron?."

"Behind, behind..."

****

Chapter 15

Where There's a Will There's a Way

I was to start work on Monday, September 1st and so Greg took me shopping. He insisted that if I was going to write grants and hit people up for grant money, I had to look expensive, beautiful and hot. We went to Philadelphia to shop. I think I tried on thirty outfits that he, yes he, picked out. Who would know looking at the way he dressed that he had such good taste? He bought me an Ellen Tracey Poplin Shirtdress in black, a Tory Burch knit shift dress in deep blue and white stripe and a Diane Von Furstenburg Darcy crossover dress in tan with white edging. They were gorgeous and if you added the shoes that he bought me to match them, it came to way more than my monthly income. I resisted his indulgence, but he said that it was my birthday present.

On September 1st , we drove in together and walked through the clinic hand in hand to the clucking of a lot of people. I had chosen the shirt dress for my first day and was suppose to check in with Human Resources. I wanted to go see Chase, Taub, Thirteen and Foreman first to let them know I was back. I got onto the elevator with a very chipper Gregory House. When we walked into the office Chase jumped up.

Chase put his wrists together in front of him as if he was going to be cuffed, "Whew! Officer Grogan, I've been bad, real bad!" He started laughing.

"Was it Masters or House who told you about that?" I asked with a sly smile.

"Cuddy! She told all of us that House had finally found a cop that liked him. Hey, bad cop is one of my favorite fantasies. If House gets paroled, you can arrest and frisk me."

House looked at him, "Dream on. I've been committing a string of felonies for the last week. I have a rap sheet at home as long as my arm."

I looked at House and winked, "Oh, that's right. He's been a_ very bad boy_."

Foreman shook his head, "Well it's great to have you back."

I went over and hugged all of them except Masters. She sat quietly at the table drinking her coffee. I turned to Masters, smiled, then went over and gave her a quick hug which she reciprocated. Then I walked over and gave House a hug and a kiss on the to Masters I warned her, "Today you and I start fresh. But there is one thing, you French kiss House again and you won't have a tongue for the next one."

Masters looked completely baffled which is when I realized that House had been pulling my leg. I didn't say any more, I figured it wouldn't hurt if she stayed confused. My next move was to talk to human resources where I filled out the paperwork and then went to my new office which was on the second floor but at the opposite end of the hospital from House's office. The office was about fourteen by sixteen with windows overlooking woods and river. I remembered my office at college, it was half the size of this one. Cuddy came up to see if I was comfortable. I asked her which department needed the most money and she prioritized the departments for me. I grabbed newsletters and journals off of her desk and began.

For a month I worked like a dog and House was getting pissed. I was coming home late so dinner was usually take out. He was starting to pout. I was so tired that sex slipped to twice a week, which, granted, was two times more than House had been getting before I moved in, but it was down from the five plus times a week before I started work.

I wasn't making much to start, just minimum wage. It was going to take three months before we started getting any of the grants awarded to the various departments. Since House was pouting over my lack of attention to him, I decided that I needed to make him feel better. The annual fall "PPTH Medicinal Ball" (nice play on words) was being held at the Hyatt. I didn't have a ball gown or cocktail dress to wear and I didn't want to ask House to buy me one after spending a fortune on me just a month before. So I went down to the consignment shop and found a very sexy dress by BCBG for only $75.00. It was a nice red full length halter dress that plunged to my waist in the front. I got dressed and helped Greg with his bowtie, which was difficult because he kept sticking his hand in the front of my dress and fondling me as I gave him the evil eye.

We were late, but that didn't faze him. "Your eyes say no, but your breasts say yes."

I sighed, "We're not going to make it on time are we?"

With a sexy look, his eyes half hooded, he shook his head no.

"Can I keep my dress on and just hike it up?"

"Works for me."

I laid down at the end of the bed, several pillows under me, hiked my skirt, took off my panties as fast as I could while he dropped his trousers. He was standing at the end of the bed watching me as I undid my halter and let the girls out to play much to Greg's delight. We started out nice and slow but I was in a hurry so I picked up the pace, pulsing my hips up and down faster and faster. I wasn't as wet as usual because all I could think about was getting to the gala. Bad move. Without my head in the game I was a little on the dry side and when you're tight and dry, it's not a good combo. House wasn't having the same problem. Screwing me in this dress was going to make his night. It was his teenager logic, knowing all night long as he showed me off that he had "tapped that." But I knew it would help to make him behave at the gala so I went with it. He took out the condom and put it on, but in my haste to get things going, I contracted my muscles as tight as I could to get him to come. It worked. House tilted his head back and enjoyed the sensation for about a minute before yelling out as he came over and over again. It had been awhile since we had done the deed so he had been loading up for almost a week. When he came I didn't think he was going to stop; it seemed like an endless ride.

Once finished with his last thrust, he smiled at me and said, "Okay, we can clean up and get going, I can last until we get home." He pulled out and I could feel semen seeping down my leg.

"Greg, where's the condom?""

He looked down at his dick and then the bed and the floor, "Damn, the condom is still inside you."

I turned white. "You can't mean that, how did it happen?"

"Gee, could it be you're tight and got tighter by clamping your muscles down which jerked it off of me?"

"Oh my God, get it out!"

"Alright, lay back." He put his fingers up me and searched around, making faces all the time. Then he started laughing, "I'm going to have to do a pelvic exam to find it." I must have looked mortified because he said, "Relax, this happens-more often than you'd think. I need to go get my desk light."

So there I was, in my new formal, getting a pelvic exam by my boyfriend who just lost his rubber inside me on the night of my first big gala. I was so tense that Greg was having trouble examining me. He rubbed his forehead and then screamed, "You've got to relax. I can't get inside you if you're clamped down tight."

"Well yelling at me isn't going to do the trick!"

He calmed down, "Do you want a Vicodin?"

"No, I want you to get that condom out of me so we can get going."

"Okay, scoot down to the edge of the bed, further, further...okay now drop your knees to the side." He started searching inside with his long fingers. Ten minutes later and a lot of yelling he found it and pulled it out. Not a drop of semen was inside of it which meant all of the semen was in me.

We arrived an hour later than I had planned. But at least Greg was feeling a little sheepish and was much nicer to me than he had been just an hour before.

The rest of the night went well. When we got home we collapsed and went to sleep rolled up in a ball next to him like I always did. . It's strange how you develop your own little rituals and habits when living with each other. I try to get to sleep before Greg so that his snoring doesn't keep me awake. We tend to brush out teeth together or at least he tends to be in the bathroom doing something while I brush my teeth. He leaves the toilet seat up to piss me off, knowing I often get up in the middle of the night to pee. More than once I've screamed and let out several explicatives as I pulled myself out of the bowl. I hate coffee and so he makes me a cup of tea in the morning. I make dinner as often as I can but not as often as he would like. He moans that when I don't make dinner there's no leftovers for him to take to work for lunch. I simply remind him that he has two hands, but he hasn't made me dinner yet.

Sex is strange these days. We have weeks where we hump like rabits and weeks where we barely kiss. But he's always generous in bed, I always come. He goes to sleep within a few minutes of sex like clockwork unless we're going somewhere. I like to lie there and feel his body, how hairy it is compared to mine. I look at his profile and marvel at how angular his nose is and how long his eyelashes are. Everyone loves his eyes, well I do too, but I really love his nose. I think it's perfect for his face with a crease at the top where it was broken in a fight. He's always warm and he has that musky smell, but it isn't overpowering like some men. His feet stink at the end of the day, but not too bad unless he's been on them all day long.

But the thing that I notice the most is his pain. I cannot imagine living with the pain that he does. I've read his file and I've watched him when he doesn't know it and it's always present. It's the 800 lb. Gorilla. I wish I could take the pain for him, bear it so he could get some relief. But he tells me it has been better over the last few months. James says that's because he's living with me and the pain in his leg is worse when he's having some emotional crisis.

I had to get up early in the morning to fly to Atlanta for a medical seminar on writing grants. It was going to take place over the next three days and I needed to be there by 10:00 a.m. So I left the next morning before he got up, but he woke long enough to give me a kiss and to pinch my butt.

When I got back from the seminar I found mail addressed to me on the table- all opened. One of the letters was from the trustees of my Aunt's trust.

Dear Ms. Grogan,

The legal department of Washington National Trust has now reviewed your aunt's revocable trust and you are the sole beneficiary. However, there were conditions in the trust, drafted by your aunt, that determine when the trust assets can be distributed to you.

Your aunt indicated her concern about your prison sentence and her hopes that you have, in her words, "gotten your life together." She has instructed us to release the monies held in the trust to you over a period of five years starting when you are forty years old or upon your marriage, whichever comes first. Your Aunt's estate, after the sale of her house in San Diego is currently $720,300. Please contact this office as soon as possible to discuss the trust and, if you are married, please provide us with a certified copy of your marriage certificate. Yours sincerely, Donald Cavanaugh.

I couldn't think. It was upsetting to be reminded that my aunt was dead, shocking to find out that she believed the drug charges against me and lastly, that her estate was worth so much. But then I realized that her house alone in San Diego was worth $650,000 even though it was only 2100 square feet and not even close to the beach. $720,300 over five years was approximately $12,000 a month.

I would be forty in just three years, I could hang on for that. I looked around, picked up Greg's dirty clothes, took the dishes out to the kitchen and straightened up. Once done, I laid down on the bed and called the hospital.

"Greg House." his voice made me smile.

"Hi, I'm home."

"Just a sec." House put the receiver down and I could hear him talking to Taub and Foreman about a patient. I waited, and waited and then realized he had either forgotten I was on the phone or he just had something more urgent. I hung up after ten minutes. If he had a patient, he would be home late.

Two hours later I received a call. "Hello?" I answered.

"I'm sorry, I just got carried away. I'm not going to be able to get home for awhile. Why don't you come down here and have dinner with me? You could pick something up on the way down."

"Ugh...I was hoping to just stay in. I have an upset stomach. Too many rubber chicken lunches."

"Well, that's it. The honeymoon's over; you'd rather stay in than come down to see me after three days away." He sounded disappointed.

"Oh, Okay, baby. I'll pick something up, Chinese, Thai, pizza?"

"Chinese, that Special Shrimp from Dragon Blossom. Bye."

I changed from my pajamas and back into my street clothes, grabbed my purse and drove to Dragon Blossom, a very nice Chinese restaurant owned by an Italian man named Nick Leone. I bought enough Chinese food for five, just in case his Team wanted some. I drove to PPTH, pakring in my usual spot, walked past his motorcycle and started up the stairs to his office. It was then that it hit me how tired I felt.

He wasn't in and the outside office was empty too. I put the food on the table in the outter office and then sat down in his easy chair, putting my feet up on the ottoman. I fell asleep. The next thing I remember was waking and looking out at Greg with his team, they were all eating Chinese food and talking about the differential diagnosis. He looked in and smiled at me. I waved and then went back to sleep. I knew he wouldn't come up for air until he had given them their marching orders.

The long fingers on my breasts meant one thing, he was waking me up to have office sex. He liked office sex, but I found that it was usually uncomfortable. I opened my eyes. He tilted his head and squinted at me. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a boob job. You seem bigger." He straightened up. PUtting a finger to his lip and looking up into the air, he said, "Now let's see, bigger breasts, stomach flu and fatigue. Oh, not to mention a migrating condom."

It hit me between the eyes. "Oh come on. You're jumping to conclusions."

"Did you read the title on my door? Diagnostics? Conclusions are what I do for a living."

"Greg, I can't be. What would I do?"

"We'll do what millions of people do all over, put it up for adoption." He grinned after seeing the shock on my face. "Or, we could get married."

"We're not ready for marriage.'

"Speak for yourself. I'm 52, when do you think I'm going to be ready?"

I thought about the $12,000 a month and wondered if he was suggesting marriage because of the money. But then, Greg made over $16,000 a month, so it wasn't that.

"You want to get married?"

"If you're pregnant." He seemed so nonchalant.

"But only if I'm pregnant?"

"I love you, but I've never thought anyone should get married unless they're going to have kids. It appears that you're determined to make me a father, so let's get married."

'Let's not get ahead of ourselves, I'll pick up a test on the way home." I thought about it and didn't know what to say to him. I wondered how he really felt about it.

He must have read my mind."It's okay, I've known for awhile.'

"What?"

"Stomach flu? Give me a break. Plus, the timing for the condom mishap was perfect. I always knew we should have had a backup. I guess if remaining childless had been that important, we both would have taken some further precautions."

"Greg, being a Dad requires a lot of ..." I wanted to say sensitivity, patience, gentleness.

"Money?" He saw the horror on my face, "I was just joking. You were going to tell me that I'd have to learn to be "in touch" with my feelings. I like kids before they can speak...I'll learn to like ours even when it learns its ABC's." he smiled, "You do know our kid is going to have a mouth on it. Well, I have to get back, the team is probably done with their tests. You go home and sleep." He reached down and kissed me.

I bought the test and I was so anxious to take it that I kept waking up all night. Greg had stumbled in around midnight and was dead to the world. At 5 am I couldn't take it any longer. I went into the bathroom and peed on the stick. House opened the door.

"I'm taking a pee here if you don't mind." I said as I tried to pee on the stick.

"I know, I can hear the tinkle."

I got up and he took my place to pee while I put the wand down on the counter and washed my hands. I was so anxious, I couldn't watch the wand change. So many things went through my head. _Do I want to marry Greg? Do I want to be a mother? Isn't this going a little too fast? I'm living in an apartment with a man and I have less than a quarter of a closet for my things. Doesn't that say something about him.? Is he committed to the relationship or is he just lonely and doesn't care who crawls in bed next to him at night?_

"You're really nervous, aren't you?"

"Aren't you? How can you be calm? This is going to effect you for the rest of your life." I said.

"I guess because I went through all those feelings two weeks ago when I knew you were pregnant."

"Why didn't you say something then?"

"I wanted to think it through without any pressure one way or the other. Did I ever tell you about the operation we did on this fetus? I was taking him out of the womb to put a monitor on him when he grabbed my finger. I thought a lot about babies and legacies after that. I always wondered why the trailer trash of the world had more trailer trash than bright people have bright kids? I figure our baby is my gift to the gene pool. It will raise the level substantially."

"And my genes wouldn't?"

"Let's face it, Dr. Grogan, I never said you weren't smart. You just use the wrong side of your brain. I like science, you like words. But I am hoping the baby has your big right toe." He picked up the wand and said, "Congratulations Mommy." My blood pressure dropped and so did I. House caught me and started laughing. "Why don't we get you back to bed and I'll bring you some tea?"

I recovered and as we were laying in bed drinking I must have looked dazed because House kissed my forehead, "I assure you, women have children on a daily basis. Some even do it several times in their life. You will make it through this."

"Greg, when I was in prison, I thought it was all over for me. I had lived with a guy in my twenties and we actually tried to get me pregnant, for all the wrong reasons, and we couldn't do it. You know how statistics say you're less likely to get pregnant as you get older? Well, I was in prison during the last of my really fertile years. I thought God was sending me a message that I wasn't motherhood material if I could let some jackass convince me to be his mule. I spent a lot of time dumping that dream of motherhood. I spent a lot of time turning off the part of me that wanted to look through baby clothes, smile at kids in strollers, watch kids on Santa's lap get their photos taken...you know. It was too painful. I just can't believe that I get to be a Mom." I had tears coming down my face.

"You're going to be a great Mom. You're already a beautiful pregnant woman."

I hugged him. It was times like these when, out of the blue, he could be so romantic that I loved him the most. It wouldn't last long but it was like that plant that only blooms every forty years. It's a beautiful bloom but it stinks so much when it opens that you're glad when it closes back up. Well, Greg as a romantic was touching and I loved having glimpses of what was really going on inside of him; but he was so corny, you kind of felt embarrassed for him.

But this was one time I didn't want him to close up. I could handle the stink.

"We need to get married soon. Let's fly to Vegas next weekend, can you do that now that you're no longer on probation?"

"Yeah, I can go anywhere now. I've served my debt to society for being stupid and in love. I like the idea of going to Vegas, but I don't want an Elvis wedding."

He looked terribly disappointed and started singing, "Don't be cruel to a hear that's true... Come on, it will be fun. I'll buy you a big ugly diamond that you can show off."

"Gee and I'm all about the jewelry. I don't care if you give me a cigar band."

"I have a ring, it was my Grandmother's, my mother's mother." He jumped up and went to his dresser and found it. He brought it back and opened it up, "Reagan Grogan, will you marry me and have my baby?"

It was starting to stink, but I went along. "I will Gregory House." I looked at the ring and it was perfect. It had a half karat diamond with a circle of rubies and diamonds around it. It was petite enough to not overwhelm my hand. It was a little large for my ring finger but we put a band-aid around it as a spacer. And since we were both romantics and now engaged we did what romantic couples do, we made love, twice.

I wanted Sadie to be my maid of honor but she still had two years left on her sentence. So I was resigned to just using the paid witness at the "Chapel of Love." House had convinced Wilson to fly out with us. We all asked for the Friday off. It was Thursday afternoon and Lisa Cuddy came into my office.

"What's going on? You, House and Wilson have all asked for tomorrow off. Why?"

"Nothing. House and I are just going to kick back and relax."

She was suspicious, "Well, since it isn't a big deal, I think I'm going to need you to work on that M.A.R. Grant. It's due on Tuesday and I'd like to review it first thing on Monday.

I tried to keep it together but my hormones were raging. I burst into tears. Lisa lost her poker face, "I was just teasing you. I'm sorry, you can have the weekend off, no problem. But I'm just dying to know what's going on...please?"

I dried my tears and sniffed a little before saying, "Greg, Wilson and I are flying to Vegas. Greg and I are getting married at the _Bellagio._"

Her mouth dropped and her eyes widened. She didn't take a breath. Finally she exhaled and said, "Oh my fucking God. How did you convince House to marry you?"

"He knocked me up."

She shrieked so loud that a couple of people ran to the door. After waving them away, she came around and gave me a hug. "That is too funny. Greg House a father! Oh this is going to...I'm floored...only you could get him down the aisle. Oh, can I come? I'd love to see you two get married."

"Really? I don't have a maid of honor. My female friends in Los Angeles and I drifted apart when I went to prison and my prison friends are still in prison. Would you like to be the maid of honor?"

She smiled widely, "I'd love to! What should I wear?"

"I'm going with a short cocktail dress that Greg bought me. You can wear anything as far as I'm concerned."

"Going to the chapel and we're...going to get married...going to the chapel... this is so cool."

"I'm really glad you're going with us." I gave her the details and we made online flight reservations.

I told Greg that Cuddy was coming and he almost swallowed his tongue, "Who are you inviting next? Stacey? Chase?"

"No, but I needed a maid of honor."

"We've already paid for a maid of honor."

"_I want my own Maid of Honor!_"

He put his hands up in defeat, "Okay. Okay. Never argue with a pregnant woman or is that an ex-con?"

We flew to Las Vegas and checked into the Bellagio. That evening at 7:00 p.m. we had our service. It was short, sweet and the photos show four pretty happy people. We partied all night long, me sucking orange juice, the others drinking champagne and tequila. All in all, my wedding night was great, no sex, one passed out husband, but great. We spent Saturday morning having sex and then we ate and the four of us went shopping. Finally Greg's leg was giving out so we started gambling after which we went to see the Blue guys Saturday night. On the way back to the Bellagio we gambled some more and then went to bed.

On Sunday, the three of them had reservations to fly out at noon. I took a plane at 8:00 a.m. to Sacramento and drove to Dublin to see Sadie. I was so excited to tell her all the news. But I was worried, prison can really screw with you. I was hoping I'd still recognize her. I didn't have to worry. Sadie was as lovely and funny as ever. Prison hadn't sucked the life out of her. She hugged me with those two long, thin arms of hers and looked over sunglasses at me.

"You're look terribly happy. I'm glad to see that. When you wrote me last you said that you and this Greg guy had moved in together. But I see a ring on your finger...does that mean you're married?"

"Friday, in Vegas."

She let out a familiar little squeak, the one she gives when she finds something deliciously interesting. "Anything else you want to tell Sadie?"

"I"m pregnant...due June 25th! I am so excited."

"Did you bring any photos?" I pulled out the wedding photos taken at the chapel. She looked for a long time at the one of just me and House. 'He doesn't give his feelings away easily, does he? He's happy but he doesn't want anyone to know it in the photo."

Sadie had always been a good judge of character and could read people like no one else. She knew right away that I was innocent even though I never said anything. Everyone in the Pen is innocent, just ask them. But she pointed me out my first day inside and said, "You don't belong here, do you pumpkin?' From that point on she took care of me. The only time I ever ran into trouble was when I wasn't with her.

Sadie was only two years older than me but she was decades ahead in wisdom. The madam of the largest international house of prostitution in the world, she serviced only the richest and most powerful men. They paid well for it too. She was brought down by an eager beaver D.A. in Los Angeles but he ended up losing his job over it and Sadie's friends made sure was sentenced in the federal rather than the state court so that she could spend her time at the Dublin Country Club.

We talked for an hour and then I left wishing I could take her with me. She was so funny and irreverent and House would have enjoyed her company. Sadie had taught me how to take care of myself. Resourceful, she had worked her way out of East Los Angeles, a pretty tough neighborhood. Sadie knew how to fight and she taught me some tricks. She had naturally auburn hair with lighter streaks of red in it. Her eyes were green and her body was naturally voluptuous. It was round, no angularity whatsoever. Sadie wasn't fat but she didn't believe in being skinny.

"Men aren't fashion photographers, they want a soft place to land and grab on to." She used to say.

If I was going to have a lesbian love affair, I'd have it with Sadie. But she was straight as they come. She loved the feel of a man's penis in her hand, mouth and body. She loved it. She really enjoyed sex, a lot. I hated to leave her but I had a plane back to Princeton to catch. I think she was shedding a few tears when I left, I know I was.

****

Chapter 16

Wooing Elephants

House walked through the clinic with his wife. His wife. He never expected that he would have a wife. He had even dodged the bullet with Stacey, convincing her there was no need to be married when you didn't have to be. But House was no fool. He knew that when Reagan got pregnant she'd want to have the baby and she'd want to get married. If he didn't marry her, she'd eventually leave him and for some reason, the idea of losing her scared the hell out of him.

He felt alive again. She made him go places and do things he hadn't done in years. Reagan knew just when his leg was giving him too much pain, how to massage it and how to take care of him. Good at spoiling him, she did it without letting him get too spoiled. He never knew what she was going to do next and this kept him on his toes. Sometimes when he would wake up at night from the pain in his leg, he would touch her, make sure she wasn't part of a hallucination.

__

Will all of this last? I'll be here, waving my bloody fist, firmly entrenched in this relationship until the bloody end, but can she stick it out? I'm not the easiest person to live with. I tend to test the most patience of souls. I wonder if she'll have the baby and then get tired of my crap and leave? I don't leave relationships, I make sure they leave, they carry the guilt, I get to be the one that was left.

As he worried about Reagan leaving his leg began to ache.

House unlocked his office and put down his knapsack, walked into the outer office and threw the files for the new patient on the table, went over and poured himself his usual coffee. Masters looked up and saw it right away, the simple gold band on his left hand. She couldn't move at first but then she swallowed and said, "Congratulations."

House stirred his coffee and considered her demeanor, she was clearly upset, "Thanks."

Foreman looked back and forth at the two of them, "Am I missing something?"

Chase looked and saw the ring, "So that's why you took Friday off, you went to Atlantic City and got married?"

"Now if you could just apply that deductive skill to your work. Vegas, we flew to Vegas." House said.

Foreman jumped up and shook House's hand while House stared blankly at him. "You're a very lucky man. I don't care if she is an ex-con, she's an incredible woman, you're very lucky."

"Thank you," he said tentatively, "now can we get back to the patient?"

Within an hour people were stopping by and offering their congratulations to House and their condolences to Reagan. "Are you sure you know what you've gotten yourself into?"

Reagan didn't know. She just knew the thought of not having House in her life was unfathomable now. She loved him as much as the child she was carrying and that scared her. _You have to be mentally unbalanced to love someone like House so much._

At noon Reagan went up to House's office and found him reading journals. "Ready for lunch?"

House put his reading glasses down and followed her to the cafeteria. They had been stopped by several people who wished then well, including Virgil.

"You are the luckiest man in the world House. I envy you. Congratulations."

"Thanks Virgil." Reagan lifted up to kiss his cheek.

By late afternoon, several of the doctors and staff wanted to meet at the Triumph for an impromptu round of congratulatory drinks. House just wanted to go home but he could tell by the way Reagan suggested they go that he had no choice. _So this is what marriage is like. Two equally vicious dictators sharing power over one domain, except for one thing, she controls the sex._

When they showed up, House was shocked by the number of people who were milling around. He and Wilson were at the bar when he mentioned this.

"Half of them are here for Reagan, a quarter are here out of curiosity, an eighth are here for you and the other eighth are here because they hate you and have a morbid curiosity about your life."

"You're such an optimist. Always putting the best spin on things."

There were toasts and it was Tara who noticed it first. "Reagan, you haven't had a drink of your champagne. You're pregnant aren't you?""

The entire crowd was silent. It was House that spoke up, "Yes, I have some pretty healthy swimmers and we practiced a lot before the heat. My swimmers won the match and the trophy is a small infant at the end of nine months,"

There was still dead silence and then Tara started laughing. The whole crowd started laughing and clapping. There were more rounds of congratulations and more drinking.

The months passed and every chance he could get, House would drag Reagan into the clinic and listen to the fetal heartbeat. He would find it and then smile as they heard the rapid woosh-woosh of the heart. They didn't want to give Reagan her first sonogram until she was twenty weeks. But in the meantime, all the bloodwork was normal and House monitored Reagan's health like a hawk.

He bought a new digital camera and photo printer. Reagan was getting a little tired of every time she turned around he was taking a picture. Even the bathroom wasn't sacred. She had to admit it was interesting to watch her belly expand. House made her stand every week in the same place wearing the same sweatpants while he took a photo of her profile. In just four short months her body had morphed into this round bubble, safely holding and growing their baby. House had called the baby a fetus and Reagan went ballistic.

"You're not going to make our baby your science project. You call it a fetus once again and I'll go Oz on you and you'll regret it. I'm good with a shank. Entiendes?"

"It's a fetus."

House never saw her so upset or angry, "Gregory House, you say that one more time and I walk. I mean it...I'll walk out of here and not look back! You have to commit to the idea that this is your baby or I'm outta here." she stared at him with such determination that he knew there was some truth behind the threat.

It was a baby from then on out.

Reagan was enjoying her new job immensely and as a result of it, got to meet all of the staff in the hospital. She frequently met with the heads of various departments to find out their needs and to have them help her with terminology. By the third month of her job, the grants were starting to come in, including a $250,000 grant for oncology. Reagan had worked especially hard on it for Wilson because he had always been so good to her. In appreciation, Wilson bought her a mother's locket in 18kt gold and encrusted with several rubies and diamonds to match her wedding ring. The Board was impressed when they held their quarterly meeting and Reagan reported that two more grants for $30,000 and $50,000 had been awarded. Most grants were between $5,000 and $40,000. But Reagan went for the big ones. They took more time to prepare and more creativity, but they were worth it in the end.

The New England Journal of Medicine had written a letter to House about his first article, the one submitted on June 1st. The letter made no sense to him and so he took it down to Cuddy, "They say they're going to print it just the way it is, with minmal editing. They found my style to be very unique."

"What does that mean?" She asked.

"How the hell do I know? I just dictated it and let Reagan do the spell check and editing. I thought maybe you knew."

"Well, I guess we'll have to wait until it comes out." Cuddy shrugged and then went back to work.

On the morning the Journal came out, House came in a little early to get his copy. He was a little worried because, as he walked down the corridor, people would point and laugh. A few would say, "Great article, I really enjoyed it." Joy was not something that House usually elicited. House walked into the office and saw the Team, Wilson and Cuddy all reading their New England Journals of Medicine and laughing. Something was wrong with this picture.

Fifteen minutes later, Reagan had been called into the room.

The office was warm from the central heat. She looked at everyone sitting and standing with their journals in their hands, "Well, hello everyone." She smiled unknowingly. Each of them noted that she was starting to look pregnant.

Cuddy responded, "Hello, Reagan, take a seat. I understand that you edited House's article in June?"

I typed it, spell checked it and," she paused and looked at everyone, "I might have added a few things." The crowd was having a hard time containing their laughter. "Come on guys, what's up?"

"Just how boring did you find typing the article to be?" Cuddy asked.

"Pretty boring." She was looking at House who looked extremely annoyed.

"Well you certainly made it interesting for everyone else." Cuddy said. She picked up the article and started reading, "The patient was Asian, a handsome man with angular features and a frightened stare. He asked in halted, stunted breaths, if what he had could be the avian flu? From the rales and wet cough, I knew he had to have some type of respiratory disease, but I was unsure if it was related to the avian influenza. I needed more proof. I noticed his daughter. She was young and gorgeous, probably early twenties, a student at Princeton. She had a slight tic in her right eye and the beginnings of a cough. She seemed worried. "My father just returned from China in an area where the avian influenza HN51 has been present for the last two years. She stopped, took a breath and continued. "My mother died and he took her ashes back to her home to Szhang Zee in China."

They all started laughing except for House.

"I don't get it, what's so funny?" she asked, worried about the look on House's face.

"We don't usually describe the patients and their families in such poetic terms."

Wilson broke in, "This is my favorite, "The surgeon, Dr. Ty Mowbray, entered the patient's room at a quick clip. His Ralph Lauren blazer and Nautica pants screamed success..."

House asked her one question. He wanted to know about the second article, the one he had worked so hard on, "Did you embellish my second article in the same way?"

"Only a little," she said sheepishly, "I knew you had already done a lot of editing on it."

He dropped his head in his hands. "Are you a moron? This is a medical journal, not a Harlequin Romance novel. What was going through that wacko head of yours? Do you have any brain cells?"

Wilson was feeling sorry for Reagan, "House, don't be so harsh. Your article got published. Out of the hundreds of articles they get, yours got published."

Everyone else was giggling, trying not to break out into a full on laugh. House looked at them, "Don't forget she's been typing your articles too!"

That sobered Foreman up. Chase still laughed and Thirteen looked satisfied.

"Well, let's just see what the fallout is." Cuddy said to House.

House shook his head and his arms in frustration and yelled, "Aaaagh..."

Reagan looked at the floor like a broken child. Her bottom lip started to quiver and House could see it coming. The tears fell from her eyes directly to the tops of her feet. She didn't say anything, didn't sniff, didn't breath. It broke his heart. He had hurt her feelings deeply.

"Okay, you're not a moron. You're just...creative, too creative for your own good." He took out a hankie and handed it to her. Everyone was now quiet. It made them sad to see the perky, funny Reagan crying because of them.

Chase came over and put his arm around her, "I loved it, I didn't think it detracted from the medicine one bit and I actually wanted to read it and I rarely want to read medical articles. If you want to type my articles, I'll be happy to give them to you."

House was agitated, "Brown nose."

Reagan looked up and shot House a dirty look and then turned to Chase, "Next time Chase, I'll marry you." She got up and walked out.

Chase laughed at House.

It turned out to be the most popular download of the New England Journal of Medicine, making them thousands of dollars in download fees. It also earned House some notoriety. Several magazines, including Time interviewed him. House was in the doghouse at home for almost a month.

House tried to make her stop punishing him. He came at her from different angles, "Don't be a baby, you're an adult. You should be able to take criticism." "For God's sake you can't pout the entire pregnancy." "You screwed up my article and I'm suppose to thank you?" But his anger lost steam as he became the darling of the medical field for his journal articles. His second one was also picked up and printed the following month. It wasn't as flowery as the first but it turned out to be the second most downloaded article. The reality was that the articles not only had great medical information but the writing was so unique that doctors all over took the time to read them. It turned out to be a win-win for the Journal and House.

House couldn't get Reagan to acknowledge him at home. As a result, he was in such a foul mood at work that Chase came in and sat down across from him. "She's still pissed, huh?"

"She's an elephant."

"Huh?"

"Doesn't forget."

"Oh. Well here's what you do. You call her and tell her that the landlord has said you have a leak but you can't get away. She'll have to go home. When she gets there she finds that you have nice, romantic candles lit, a bath drawn for her with bath oils, rose petals everywhere, especially on the bed and a dozen of them on the table with a card that says, "You can edit my articles any day, because in the end, you are all that matters." And you have her favorite meal catered. That's what it's going to take. You humiliated her in front of us for something she considers herself good at. She's a writer House...it would be like chastising you for being a great diagnotician." Chase got up and walked out.

House thought about it. Reagan was certainly punishing him . They hadn't had sex since the article came out. She wasn't cooking his dinner or washing his clothes. She would clean one sheet and one pillow case, then tell him that he had to do the other. She didn't watch television with him but read in bed each night. He was lonely and wanted her back. He had tried to be nice to her and had even washed her clothes for her, but she wasn't buying it.

House bought the roses, the rose petals, a DVD, and some expensive earrings. He ran a hot bath, added some oils from Bath & Body, had some massage oil by her side of the bed, had a meal catered and in the evening and even bought 1000 count sheets for the bed. He filled out the card just as Chase had told him to do. He had candles in the living room, bathroom and bedroom. He made the call from his cell.

"Reagan Grogan."

"It should be Reagan House."

Her voice turned edgy, "What do _you_ want? Make it quick, I have work to do."

"The landlord called, we have a leak and they need you to be there to let the plumber in. He should be there in a few minutes."

"Why me?"

"Because I have a patient that's about to die if I don't figure out why."

He heard her sigh, pissed that she had to leave. "Okay." click.

He smiled and waited. Her car pulled up outside the apartment and she got out. She looked around for the landlord or the plumber but there was no one. She was pissed. It was 4:30 p.m., even if they didn't show, it was too late to go back and get anything accomplished. She was home for the day.

She opened the door and could smell the rose candles and roses on the table. House was sitting in the bathroom waiting for her to make it back to him. _Why are all these candles lit? Did the power go out too? Is Greg here? Roses, rose candles, what is this? _She went to the table and looked at the roses with an envelope that said, "To my darling wife." _Dearest Reagan, "You can edit my articles any day, because in the end, you are all that matters." Oh God, how sweet! I hope he means it._

She followed the petals to the bedroom and saw her robe laying out and the bed turned down with new sheets. Then she followed the roses into the bathroom and he was standing there with a glass of orange juice. The room had more candles and scented bathwater. House was standing in just a pair of boxer shorts and a bow tie.

"Madam, your bath awaits you."

She thought hard about it. She wasn't sure she wanted to give in yet, but this had been quite an effort_. If I take the orange juice from him the game is over. I'll have won but has he paid enough of a price? God, he looks so handsome and repentant. I desperately want to screw him._

Reagan took the orange juice and sipped it. He smiled, obviously relieved. He helped her take off her coat and unzip her dress. She sliped out of everything while he hung the coat in the closet. When he came back she was naked, her four month belly protruding sweetly. He motioned to the tub.

"Aren't you going to join me?" she asked.

He had the boxers off before she finished the question. She laughed. He got into the water, "It's just right, I've been topping it off with hot water every five minutes." She got in, laid back against him and let him wash her. She sat for what seemed like an eternity just relaxing with his arms around her.

House bent down and whispered in her ear, "Honey, I need to get out, the dinner needs attending."

"Dinner?"

"Lobster Thermidor from "Laurel's"."

"Really?"

He nodded.

"You really know how to apologize, don't you?" She scooted forward and stood up so that they could both get out. He wrapped the robe around her and then went to the kitchen. She blew out most of the candles in the bathroom and followed him. Reagan took another look at the roses and smiled, they were so beautiful. He brought their plates and sat them down on the table. House removed the large bouquet so they could see each other.

Before he said anything else he produced the earrings, diamond and ruby studs. They matched her wedding ring. She reached over and kissed his lips. "This wasn't necessary, but I really do love them. Thank you honey."

"How was your day?" he asked as the attentive husband.

"It was crappy until a half hour ago. This was so sweet. I love you so much. I just want to eat and go to bed."

"Sounds like a plan."

They ate and went to bed, making love with her on top.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 17**

Demons

Reagan was scheduled to have her first ultrasound in a week. Both House and Reagan were excited;House kept telling her that he wanted one of those grainy polaroids of the ultrasound that he could frame saying, "My Fetus can Kick Your Fetus's Tail." She corrected him gently, "Unborn Baby."

Reagan had been instructed by Cuddy to focus on the Emergency Room grants. Having found two grant proposal requests, she was sure that they would be a good fit for the Emergency Room. When she met with the head of the department, Kurt Simindinger, she found him waiting impatiently in the ambulance bay for three ambulances full of victims of an automobile accident. While they were discussing the grant proposals, an ambulance pulled up not associated with the accident. There were no sirens, but the drivers still worked quickly to get the patient out of the ambulance.

Kurt yelled at the guys, "Hey, I need you guys out of here as soon as you unload him. We have several busses coming in. What have you got?"

"Male, caucasion, 40, unconscious. Called in by his girlfriend."

"Insurance?"

"Yeah, here's his card." The paramedic said as he handed over the card.

"Okay, Cathy." Kurt yelled to the nurse who was running in their direction, "Here's his card, Robert Jakes, put him in room 3."

Reagan was writing down the Emergency Room budget parameters that Kurt had given her when she heard him call out, Robert Jakes. As the paramedics wheeled him by, she tried to get a good look, but his head was turned and the paramedics were rolling him quickly down the corridor. Reagan's heart started pounding and her head was screaming.

_Robert Jakes? It can't be. Robert Jakes? How old would he be now? He was about two or three years older than me. That would make him about 40. Robert Jakes is here? Why? _

Reagan stumbled back and would have fallen except that Kurt grabbed her, "Reagan, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Kurt. Can we do this tomorrow?" Her voice sounding constricted and small, like a child's.

He could see she was dazed. Her upper lip had small beads of sweat over it and she looked ashen, like she was going to faint, "Sure tomorrow's fine. Are you sure you're okay? Why don't you let one of the doctors look at you?"

"I'm just a little sick to my stomach. Thanks, I'll see you tomorrow." She turned, feeling wobbly and the walls were closing in on her.

As she left Kurt yelled out, "Hey Reagan, thanks for your help, I understand you've already submitted one grant for our department. Thanks, no one else seems to care about us down here."

"They care, they just haven't had time before to do anything." Reagan smiled and left Kurt to wait for the ambulances. She went to Emergency Room 3 and saw a nurse hooking the patient up to monitors and an I.V. Reagan got a good look at the face and knew she wasn't mistaken. The man in front of her was almost 6 feet with handsome features. His face reminded her of Robert Redford when he was younger. The brown hair was grayer, his eyes and upper lip had more wrinkles. He was thinner and his skin slightly yellow, but it was him. Robert Jakes was lying on the white sheets of the gurney like an apparition from her past.

Reagan's body felt heavy. It took all of her energy to drag herself back to her office and sit down. Her stomach rolled over and over. Staring out the window at the cold, dove gray sky, she realized that it was snowing. Reagan looked at her cheap Timex watch and was surprised that she had been sitting there for an hour. She called Cuddy's office. "Lisa? It's Reagan. I'm not feeling well, I'm taking off, but I should be in tomorrow.'

"If you're feeling sick maybe you ought to have someone examine you? Does House know?"

"No, I'll be okay. I just need to lie down."

Reagan was lucky to get home. In fact, she didn't even remember how she got home. The drive was a blur to her, her mind a quagmire. Sitting down in the easy chair, she held his stomach and stared ahead remembering the scene at customs with the damn beagles. She had been looking forward to getting home from South America. Her mother was waiting for her at LAX to drive her to San Diego. But as she pulled her bags from the carousel, the good looking customs agent with the beagles was being dragged towards her. Their yapping and excitement was unnerving. It was embarrassing when the agent approached with the barking dogs. She felt an arm under her shoulder and soon she was being pulled towards a door as she dragged her luggage with her other hand.

_I was put in that small room, that horrible little room. Just me and my claustrophobia._

She flashed to the look on her Mom's face when the sentence was pronounced. They had worked on the plea bargain for a month and knew what was coming, but her mother's face was still distraught when the judge ordered the five years. It was as if her Mom was hoping the judge would see what a sweet, innocent girl Reagan was and miraculously dismiss the charges. He didn't and Reagan kissed her Mom on the cheek as she was led away to jail and then to prison. The tears were streaming down her mother's tired and stressed face like a a drip from a water tap that couldn't be shut off. The monthly visits from her Mom in prison were even more painful. Her worry about Reagan's health and happiness was an anchor that pulled her mother's face down further and further with each visit.

Reagan never forgot the day her Aunt called her in prison. The guards came and got her, taking her to an office, not the normal reception room with the telephone, but the counselor's office. Her aunt was crying, "Your Mom has cancer, lung cancer. Honey, it's stage four, they can't operate. They aren't even going to give her chemo." The guilt and pain of not being with her Mom through the cancer came flooding back. The fact that her Mom died alone had been a huge cross for Reagan to carry. Reagan hardly spoke to anyone the year after her Mom died. At one point they put her on suicide watch, but Sadie had kept her from doing anything stupid.

She thought of Robert Jakes and the many years of her life he had taken from her; not to mention the feelings of worthlessness she felt when she got out-the pain as she was turned down over and over for a job. She went numb.

House got home at 5:45 p.m. "Cuddy said you went home sick, is that true?" Reagan stared up at him but there was no recognition. "Reagan? Honey? Are you okay?"

She didn't respond. House bent down and looked in her eyes. She was tracking him but she seemed spaced out. He yelled, "_Reagan_!"

She blinked and looked up at him, "Greg?"

'What the hell were you thinking about? You were in another dimension."

She stood up, looked at him and said, "I was just thinking about the ultrasound next week. How real it will be to us after we see it."

"Dinner?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't cook anything."

He was disappointed, "Well let's get something ordered in."

"Yeah, okay."

House ordered in Chinese and when it arrived he fixed himself a plate, but she didn't move from the chair.

_She's just sitting there, why? I guess I should make her a plate._

House pulled down another plate, put some food on it and took it into her. He sat down on the sofa and looked at her. She was just staring. He put the food down in front of her on the coffee table. "Reagan, it's the shrimp we like." He watched as she just sat there staring at the food. "Aren't you hungry honey?"

There was a pause before she finally looked in his eyes, "Huh? Oh, no. I'm not hungry, thanks."

He leaned over and put his hand on her forehead. She wasn't running a fever. He tilted her chin so he could get a good look in her eyes, "Reagan, you're worrying me. Come on, what's happened?" She was apparently in shock over something.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her over with him onto the couch., holding her, he kissed the top of her head. House held her untll she finally went to sleep in his arms. An hour later he woke her to go to bed. They went into bed, but Reagan, still mulling over what Jakes had done to him. Sitting on the edge of the bed she took no steps to climb under the covers.

"Sweetheart, why don't you get under the covers?"

She finally laid back and stared at the ceiling. House, still unsure what was wrong, pulled her over to him and held her tight, really tight. He felt the belly, rubbing it over and over to soothe her.

_She's asleep. She's so beautiful. I love her little figure. Her body is rounder, her belly is rounder, her breasts rounder. This pregnancy thing is so overwhelming, so fascinating. She even smells different-in a good way, like almond hand lotion. Maybe I should call in sick tomorrow and stay home with her. Something has upset her._ House kissed her ear and fell asleep.

When the alarm went off, Reagan was already in the shower. House came in to take a leak and see how she was doing.

"How are you feeling?'

She yelled over the shower curtain, "Okay. I'm going to take my car today, I have some errands to run."

"I'll be home around 5:30, I have that department heads meeting." House announced.

"Fine." she stopped the shower and was getting out. After wrapping herself in a towel, she grabbed him and stared into his eyes for an inordinate amount of time. "I really love you, Greg. Just the way you are. The most important thing in the world to me is that you try to be happy. Okay?"

He scrunched up his face. She was trying to say something without saying it, "You're not making sense."

"I know." Reaching up on her tip toes, she kissed his lips and then hugged him.

"Reagan, you're acting weird. I don't think you should go in to work. I'll call in and we can stay home, watch some old movies."

"No, I have things to do. I love you honey."

He didn't know why, he wanted to say something funny or biting, but something inside told him that he needed to let her know what he was feeling. He held her by her shoulders and said it slow and deliberately, "I love you and the baby. You're everything to me, you do know that?"

She just nodded and went into the bedroom to get dressed. House had a horrible feeling that he was being flung into a fate he had no control over. He almost grabbed her and held her down to keep her from leaving, but he had no logical reason for doing it, so he let her walk out the door.

****

Chapter 18

Baggage

I drove to work debating what to do in my head. From one moment to the next I would talk myself into it and then out of it. I parked my car and spent the morning tidying up all the loose ends that I could. I made sure that all the grant proposals I had in process were in the mail by noon and then I found that I was suddenly hungry. I hadn't eaten since noon the day before so I went to the cafeteria and had a really big lunch with Tara. She asked me if I was okay, that I seemed out of sorts. I was.

I returned to my office and sat there watching the tic tock of my clock count down the minutes. The phone rang and I answered, "Reagan Grogan."

Greg's voice was hurried but concerned, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. I've got to go, but I'm okay."

"I'll see you tonight." He said. It was more of a command than a statement.

Normally I would have responded with something about seeing him, but I just said, "I love you, bye." I took out some stationary and wrote the letter, a short one which I put it in an envelope marked 'Greg" and then I slipped it in my purse. I was surprisingly calm and ready. I looked around at my life, the photos on my desk, the art on the walls and smiled. Turning out the light, I walked into my destiny.

I'm not sure how I managed to make it to the fourth floor where he had been transferred. I looked around. Everyone was too busy to notice me. The camera in the corridor, was taking everything in, but I knew that there was nothing I could do about it. They would watch the tape and know it was me.

I was past being nervous, I was resigned. I walked in and saw the machines that he was hooked up to, I saw the drips attached to his arms. Staring at the SOB, my heart grew cold and black. I hated him, I'd never hated anyone in my life, but I hated him. With every rise and fall of his chest I felt the hate flow through me. His face, still handsome, was slightly yellow. It was a beautiful cover to a cancerous soul. I looked out the window for a brief second and suddenly realized that it was snowing. But then my mind fixed on Jakes. Every fiber of me wanted this man dead and yet something in the back of my head was begging me to run, get out, not do it. Looking back at him, the rage took over and my mind went blank. I leaned over, grabbed the tube and used my thumb to turn the roller as I stopped the drips. Then I went over and turned off his respirator. I figured he wouldn't die right away, that I would have time to get off the floor.

Surprisingly, I felt calm as I walked out the door. Keeping my eyes on the door to the stairs, I walked until I reached the door. No one said anything, not a word. I opened the door and ran down the stairwell to the bottom. I pulled my keys from the purse and drove home as fast as I could, opened the drawer, found the key I needed and then ran to the garage across the alley where we kept our things. It took me precious time to find Greg's camping backpack, but when I did, I pulled it down and ran back inside. Enough time had passed so I called the nurses desk on the fourth floor and they confirmed that Robert Jakes was dead. I knew if I didn't get out of here, the police would probably be here soon and arrest me. I'd go back to prison.

I opened the backpack and threw in some clothes, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a brush, and my vitamins. I climbed the step stool and took the money we stashed in an old hollowed out book. I packed my passport, emptied my purse and took my wallet, a pen, my cell phone and a tube of chap stick. I put the letter on the table, grabbed my mother and aunt's picture off the wall, packed a few photos of Greg, one of our wedding and took some fruit off the counter. I checked out the train tracks throughout the United States online and then turned off the computer. As I ran to my car I realized that I had forgotten to erase the history on the computer, but I wasn't even sure that House would even think to look there. I started my old car and drove as fast as I could towards Texas. I felt the baby kick me hard as I left Princeton.

House was worried about Reagan, but things were going south with his patient on the fourth floor and so he'd have to check in on Reagan later. He was just coming out of the patient's room when he saw his wife, apparently in a trance, walking from a patient's room with the emotionless face of a robot. It worried him. He went to the patient's room and saw that the man was breathing but the respirator was turned off and the drips had been stopped. He looked at the chart, there were no notes ordering them stopped or stating why they had been stopped.

_Did Reagan do it?_

Not taking a chance, he turned them all back on and started the drips again until he could figure out what was going on. He called a nurse into the room.

"What's the story with this guy?"

"He's just being given palliative care. Lung failure, Hepatitis. The doctor told me he'll be gone within the hour. His last BP was 55/30 so he's slipping fast. We've got him on saline and morphine. The respirator isn't breathing for him, it's just assisting."

House looked at the guy. _Why was she turning off his morphine? Respirator? Was this euthanasia? _He looked at the name, Robert Jakes._ Why did it sound so familiar? Who was this guy?_

"How'd he get the Hep?"

"His girlfriend said he used to be a big time drug smuggler, but the drugs got him. That's why he didn't get a new liver, he's still hooked on the drugs."

It clicked, this was the guy who had put Reagan in prison._ She wasn't trying to put him out of his misery, she was trying to kill him! No wonder she's been a basket case._

"Here's my card with my cell phone on it, let me know when he dies."

"Yes, Dr. House."

House ran as fast as his bad leg would let him to Reagan's office. Before he got there, the phone rang, "Dr. House, Mr. Jakes just died."

He thought about it for a brief second before responding, "Thanks." Her office looked as if someone was working but it also looked empty, tidy. He dialed her cell phone but she wouldn't pick up. He went down to the parking lot and got into his car. The snow was coming down in whirling flakes and sticking everywhere. _It's damn cold_. When he got home there was no sign of her car. He relaxed a little as he walked into the lobby of his apartment building. _She must be running errands. I'll just wait for her and try to find out why she did what she did._

House opened the door to the apartment and immediately noticed the purse and the contents strewn all over the table. The blood drained from his face when he saw the empty hollow book on the floor and realized quickly that the money was gone. Closing the door, he could see an envelope on the table addressed to him. His heart sank; he was sweating and shaking, _God no, please no._

_Dearest, Dearest Love,_

_If you don't already know, you'll probably find out soon what I did. I couldn't help myself, I couldn't let him live knowing what he'd done to my family, to my mother. I'm so sorry. I know what this means and you'll understand why I had to run. I can't have our baby in prison. Please don't try to find me and don't wait for me, I won't be contacting you. I don't want you to have to lie to the police about my whereabouts._

_You have given me the best part of my life. I promise to take good care of our baby. I love you and I want you to be happy. Divorce me as soon as you legally can. Forget about me and the baby and find someone new, someone who isn't as pig-headed as me. Fine s__omeone who can give you everything that I can't._

_I want you to be happy. Be happy my love. BE HAPPY._

_All My Love,_

_Reagan XXOO_

He collapsed onto the dining chair, holding his head in pain and grief. When he was able to control the waves of emotion. he called the police to report a missing person.

"...She's pregnant and may be very ill. Please, her license is New Jersey, 23KB055."

"We'll put everyone on notice, but only because she may be ill. If we find her and she doesn't want to come back, we won't stop her," the cop warned.

"If you find her, tell her that she didn't do what she thought she did. It's very important that you tell her that. Please."

"Okay, I'll let them know-"You didn't do what you thought you did." Right?"

"Yes."

House called Wilson, "Can you come over? I have a problem."

"House, I just got home and I'm really tired. Can this wait until tomorrow?"

House paused, "She's left, gone."

"Reagan?"

"Reagan. She thinks she killed someone."

Wilson was over in less than half and hour. Exiting his car, he stood with his gloved hands inside his brown overcoat. The snow was starting to build up and he stepped lightly through the powder as he made it to House's door.

House opened it before Wilson could knock and, with a somewhat sad air, entered the room.

"What's going on? What happened?"

"She was acting strange yesterday. I didn't know why. Today I saw her on the fourth floor coming out of a patient's room. I went into the patient's room and the drips were shut off and so was the ventilator."

"Oh my God. What happened?"

"Nothing happened, really. For one thing I turned everything on within a minute tops. The drips were morphine and saline; the respirator was just assisting. He had terminal liver failure, it was a matter of minutes before he died on his own."

"So the guy was dying anyway. Okay, so that means she didn't do anything to harm him."

"But she thought she had killed him-she wanted to kill him. He was the guy who framed her and put her in prison. She left me this letter."

Wilson read the letter and shook his head, "My God. Did you call the police?"

"They're looking for her, but if she tells the policeman who finds her that she doesn't want to go back, they won't make her."

"What can we do?"

He yelled at Wilson, all the anger he had at Reagan coming out, "_I don't know!"_ He immediately knew it wasn't Wilson's fault and that Wilson didn't deserve his anger. He didn't apologize but he gave Wilson a look that told him he was sorry.

Wilson didn't flinch. He gave House a reassuring look and said, "I think you need to hire a detective right away. I don't think you ought to let too much time go by."

"You're right." House brought up the computer and did a search for Michael Hornsby. "I had a patient who was considered a pretty good investigator, I'm calling him, if he's still around."

An hour later Michael Hornsby was in House's living room. "Well, she's traveling light. How much money do you think she has?"

"$300-400 in cash from here, I don't know if she went to the ATM or not. If she has, she might have more like thousands." House said.

"We need to know if she got to the ATM. When did you go last?"

"This afternoon at lunch." He pulled out his receipt. The balance was $8,445.90 in checking.

"All right, we'll go check it in a minute but tell me what you think she took with her?"

House went around the apartment. "Some clothes, her cell phone, some fruit, the toothpaste, toothbrush. Her heavy jacket, her stocking cap, her gloves. She took her brush, the money, her wallet...wait, just a minute." He ran back to the top drawer. He came back out to the living room frowning, "She has her passport."

"Damn, that's not good." Mike pinched his lips together.

House was pretty sure Mike was going to say that. Michael told him, "Well let's find out what damage she did at the ATM."

It turned out that she had made a stop and pulled out exactly $1000.00. So House told him that she probably had about $1300 and her credit cards.

Michael shrugged and said, "Not enough cash to escape to Europe, but enough to get to Mexico."

House felt a chill go down his spine. He was getting worried. Was she good enough to cover her tracks all the way? Could he find her? He felt his world crashing around him. His leg ached liked hell.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It was cold, really, really cold. It was snot freezing on your upper lip cold. But the only way I was going to stay under the radar of the cops was to ditch the car and go on foot. I went to Washington D.C.'s Amtrak station and parked the car. I called PPTH and left a message on House's voice mail at work, I knew he wouldn't answer, he'd be at home.

"Honey, the car is down at the D.C. Amtrak parking lot." I hung up. He and the police would think I was going to hop one of the Amtrak trains but I wasn't going to take Amtrak. I was going to hop a freight train.

What most people don't know is that freight cars are fairly high up off the ground and hard to crawl into, especially when you're five months pregnant. I found some Yardies, (guys who work the yards and are pretty tolerant of hobos who hop freights) and asked them to show me the first freight leaving in the direction of New Orleans. They pointed to one that was leaving in two hours going to San Antonio, Texas via New Orleans. That was even better. I could cross the border at Piedras Negras.

I threw my back pack in first and then used the lip of the door to pull me up to a point where I could get my knee up on the platform of the car. Then I gave a huge yank and rolled myself into the box car. It didn't look very pretty, but it did the trick. The box car smelled like urine. On long trips, the guys would use the corner closest to the back, away from the door, as a toilet. It was just a part of life on the tracks. I was used to the smell of urine from prison and jail so it didn't bother me that much.

I sat down and looked around, there was no one in the box car with me. I was hoping it would stay that way, but doubted it would. This was a good ride, going a long way and this was the only box car I could find that was both empty and not locked. Usually the Yardies opened one of the empty box cars for the hobos so that we wouldn't break a lock to get into another one. About twenty minutes before we took off an older guy jumped the car. He was a nice guy, had a beard like House except the hobo's was white. He quickly told me his name was Cory.

"You pregnant?"

"Yes."

"He beat you?"

"No, he treated me well."

"Why ya hoppin' freights?"

"I screwed up."

"Cops lookin' fer ya?"

"Yep. What about you?"

"Just a drunk."

"Fair enough."

Over the last hour the temperature had dropped into the twenties. I was cold but I had bundled up. It wasn't pleasant, that's for sure. I was afraid to sleep, I thought I might freeze or someone might steal what little I had brought. As I sat, waiting for the train to take off, the baby not only twisted and turned but now, having discovered the joy of kicking, was giving my ribs a pounding. I squirmed, trying to get the baby to stop, but that just seemed to set it off. Finally, the train lurched and we were on our way. As the train swayed on the tracks, the baby calmed down.

The box car just got colder as the wind now pierced the wood slats and floor. Cory took pity on me. "You stay warmer if you come over here, sit against the side in the middle, away from the wind and away from the piss."

"Thanks." So I joined him. He didn't smell too fresh, but I was tired and needed some sleep and he was right, it was warmer. I curled up in a ball and used my back pack to put my head on.

I had a dream. I dreamed the Feds caught me and put me in Dublin again. Sadie delivered my baby and they took it away. I didn't even get to see what sex it was. I was screaming and crying. It was horrible. I woke up. Of course the dream would never come true because the murder I committed was a state offense and I'd be sent to a New Jersey state prison, not Federal. I wouldn't be in a nice, cosey, minimum security prison either. Murderers usually do hard time.

It was starting to get light and I was hungry. I pulled out an apple and ate. I figured I'd be living on water and fruit for a few days until we got to San Antonio. I soon realized that at each station, I had time to get out and go to the bathroom and grab a snack. I bought some food because I didn't know when or where we would stop. Cory and I were joined by several people who hopped on and off as we would stop to pick up and drop off box cars. They all thought Cory and I were traveling together. One even asked Cory how he felt about being a Dad at his age. He told them it felt great. I laughed at him and he smiled.

Three days later we were in San Antonio. I gave Cory all the water and food I had so he could catch another freight. I jumped off and decided to treat myself to a cheap motel to get cleaned up. I found a pretty seedy one for 30 but it had a bed and a bathroom. I stayed from when I checked in at 4:00 pm to checkout at 11:00 the next morning. I had washed my clothes in the sink and waited as long as I could for them to dry before packing up and checking out.

I caught a bus to Eagle Pass, the border town across from Piedras Negras and, along with most of the bus of Mexican Nationals, crossed the border. There was no fuss, I just walked across. I felt some relief. Mexico didn't extradite if the defendant was faced with a capital offense unless the D.A. agreed not to pursue the death penalty. I had at least kept myself from a lethal injection, but now I had to decide where to go.

I knew the west coast of Mexico better than the east. I didn't dare go to Baja, too many people from San Diego use Baja as their playground. I didn't want to be recognized. So I decided on Puerto Vallarta, a lovely city on the Mexican Riviera. I'd been there years ago on spring break and had enjoyed it. I found the bus station and within three hours I was on my way to my new home town.

Mike and House were in the parking garage of Amtrak in Washington. They drove up and down until House found her 1996 Ford Escort. He unlocked it and searched it. There were no clues. Mike checked around. No one knew anything. Pregnant women going somewhere in this hub were a dime a dozen. They didn't realize that Reagan had stuck out because of the large backpack. Had they asked about a pregnant blonde with a large backpack they would have gotten somewhere. A couple of the train station employees had thought it was odd for a single pregnant woman to be walking around with such a large framed backpack. Not knowing about the backpack lost Mike and House valuable time.

House had filed the missing persons report but there had been no word. He remembered her always saying that she had learned a lot of things in prison, he suspected that being able to keep under the radar was one of them. He was sure that she would go to Mexico. She would think that in Mexico she would be beyond the reach of the police. She knew parts of the country and she spoke enough Spanish to get her in trouble. He told Mike that, if she wasn't going back to California, she was probably in Mexico.

Mike spent the next two months trying to catch a break. It was only when House was in his garage and noticed that his sleeping bag was out of place did it register. She might have come out here to get something. He looked around and noticed his 500 backpack with the light titanium frame, was missing.

"Mike I just found out that she took my titanium framed backpack. The type you use for long mountain treks."

"Christ, I wish we had known that earlier. A pregnant woman with a big-ass backpack would stick out like a sore thumb. Well, I'll take her photo back and see if anyone remembers her."

House hung up the phone and sat back on the sofa. He jumped back up and grabbed the whiskey, something he was doing a lot. Drinking kept him from crying. And as his Dad said, "Good little Marines don't cry." But sometimes he did. On those nights when he knew she was out there, alone, worried about going back to prison and running as far from him as possible, he cried.

It was late May and Reagan had been gone for over four months. Cuddy and Wilson had lunch one afternoon in the cafeteria to discuss House, "Is there anything you can do? Even his team is saying that he's unbearable. He's more abrasive and abusive than usual. He's coming to work smelling like a distillery and his Vicodin intake has increased. I don't know how long I can keep him. I'm about ready to suspend him."

"I'll try talking to him but he's so miserable, I don't think he cares what you do to him. The worst has already been done."

"Why did she leave him? I thought they were doing well."

"Despite the rumors, it had nothing to do with House at all. It was a misunderstanding. She thought she had done something that might send her back to prison and she couldnt' stand the thought of having her baby in prison. Turns out she hadn't done anything. All this was unnecessary."

"Why doesn't he hire an investigator to find out where's she gone."

"He has. He's spent over 30,000 so far trying to find her. They only have one lead."

"What?"

"A guy who works in the rail yards told the investigator that she hopped a freight train to San Antonio. It sounds like a good lead. He was able to describe her without the photo."

"So she's in San Antonio?"

"No, she's most likely in Mexico."

"Mexico? Pregnant and in Mexico? Can he trace her in Mexico?"

"He's trying. It's not easy."

Wilson went over that night to watch _The Shield_ with House. House wasn't looking well. The closer it got to Reagan's due date, the worse House looked. He was hardly tolerable.

"Any word?'

"No, he brought me some photos the other day of a blonde, pregnant woman living in Sonora. Some fat woman. Not Reagan. He has a possible lead in San Felipe."

"Well," Wilson said, resigned, "Well what else can you expect?"

"_I can expect my wife to come back; for her to be found...I want her back!"_ House was yelling, not at Wilson but at the pain that weighed him down every day. Wilson just nodded, he understood.

When I arrived in Puerto Vallarta I asked around to try and find a place to live. I stayed in the cheapest hotel I could find until I met a woman in a local café, a Mexican woman with two little girls of her own. She took pity on me, saw that whenever I ordered I was eating as cheaply as I could. I wanted to make my money last.

In Spanish she said, "You need a place to live?"

"Yes. But I don't have a lot of money."

"There is a little place over by me. An old woman lived there. She died last week. You want to go look at it? I go home at 4:00 pm. If you come here at 4:00 you can go over there with me."

I went with her and it was a one room house with a bathroom. It had a tiny kitchenette with old appliances, a little two burner stove, oven and a tiny refrigerator. It was perfect for my needs. I rented it at 100 a month from Miguel de San Allende. Now I needed a job. I wanted to find something where I would be low key, something to pay for the roof over our heads and for food. I didn't need much, I just wanted things to calm down so I could find a way to tap my inheritance. I had provided my marriage certificate to the trustees and the money was going into an account in Princeton. I knew it might be a long time before I could access it. The police would probably have it flagged. I needed to find a way to move it offshore and then get an ATM card for it. But that would take awhile, probably years and I'd probably have to go to Princeton to do it. In the meantime, I just needed a job.

I had to buy a bed, a chair, a table with dining chairs and a chest of drawers. Magdalena, the next door neighbor, found a bed frame for me and I bought a new mattress. I became friends with several of the neighbors, all incredibly nice and they took pity on me. One afternoon I had an old table and dining chairs sitting next to my door when I got home from looking for a job.

Looking for a job wasn't going so well. Most of them told me to come back after I gave birth. As far as I was concerned, giving birth couldn't come too soon. But I felt so guilty, I wore my guilt like a weight around my chest. I felt guilty because I was going to have my baby without my husband having the joy of being there. You know those commercials where they say that depression physically hurts? It does. I walked around feeling like a ton sat on my chest. Whenever I thought about Greg I ached. The only way I could avoid aching was to think about anything but my husband and frankly, that was all I thought about. I thought about how stupid I had been to give up everything for a piece of sh!t like Robert Jakes. I only hoped that Greg could forgive me, that he would move on and be happy. Knowing Greg, he'd rather call me a moron and figure some way to make me suffer than be happy. Well, he didn't have to figure a way. I was already suffering.

On May 31st, I got sick, really sick. It hit me quickly. One minute I'm washing dishes, the next I'm vomiting until I was blue and then my gut informed me it was its turn. It was tourista, Montezuma's Revenge, the Hershey Squirts, whatever childish word you can think of for gastroenteritis. I had managed to avoid it for four months but when it hit I was just shy of being thirty eight weeks pregnant. I didn't know what end to aim at the toilet and within three hours I was crawling on the floor, too weak to get up. I tried to get to the bed but I passed out, extremely dehydrated, especially for a pregnant woman. I had been there for a day when Dorothea found me.

"Reagan, what are you doing on the floor? Oh sweetie, you are hot, very hot. I need to get you in bed. You need water?"

"Dorothea, what's happening?" I asked as I came to.

"You're sick, there's vomit everywhere. I need to get you cleaned up and then get Dr. Barbarosa over here."

I went to sleep but woke up in the hospital with a saline and antibiotic drip in my left arm. The doctors were trying to find a fetal heartbeat and looking worried. I was so frightened. This was my punishment for Robert Jakes, a life for a life.

C**hapter 19**

Easy to Leave

Greg House had learned how to live without love in his life. He was busy with patients and making Cuddy's life pure hell. In the last few months Wilson had witnessed the resurrection of his friend from the ashes, but Wilson was suspicious. To the outside world, House seemed to be House again. It had been a year since Reagan had left Princeton and he had not heard from her since that phone call from Washington D.C. saying that the car was in the Amtrak garage.

"It's damn cold out there." Wilson said as he entered House's apartment. House was nursing a beer. He'd been waiting for an hour, watching the wrestling match on the television.

"Do you want a beer before we go?"

"No, I'm already late picking you up, let's go."

House turned off the television and grabbed his cane. He got up, put on his coat and hat and turned out some of the lights, leaving just the kitchen light on.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Wilson asked in earnest.

"Oohhh, do you think I'm going to have a mental breakdown in the middle of it and start throwing things? That maybe I'll drown the baby in my despair? Come on."

When they arrived people lowered their voices and didn't look House in the eye. Wilson saw Cuddy and he made his way through to her. House hung up his coat and went up to join Cuddy and Wilson. House was talking to Cuddy when Thirteen and Chase approached him.

"Thanks House, we really appreciate you doing this." Chase said as he patted House's arm.

House looked into his face, "You do know that this will trigger the Apocalypse? Anyone who asks me to be the Godfather of their child needs a psych exam."

"Well, Remy and I talked it over and we agreed. You've done a lot for us in your strange, House-way. And you're the closest thing I have to a relative in this world so, what the hell."

House joined Chase and Thirteen at the baptismal fountain along with Thirteen's cousin, Catherine. Catherine was going to be Charles's godmother. Catherine held the baby as House stood next to her. As the baby was being baptized by the priest, both House and Catherine had to swear that they would ensure that the child would be brought up as a Catholic. House had no problem swearing that Charlie would be a Catholic, just as long as he didn't have to swear _he _was a Christian or a Catholic.

The baptism itself had been controversial and the controversy had spilled over into the department. Thirteen had been dead set against baptizing Charles, but House had actually sided with Chase, in a way.

"Thirteen, you don't believe that there is a God, so how can having the baby be baptized a Catholic mean anything to you one way or another? It means something to Chase, so why do you care if your child is dunked in a bowl of water with a bunch of mumbo jumbo spoken over him? It means something to the man you love, isn't that enough?"

Coming from House, who had lost it all, his wife, his child, his happiness, Thirteen felt sheepish. What did it matter? Chase had said that he would be happy just to have the baby baptized for now. Whether the baby would continue to be raised a Catholic and how that would be defined, they would decide as he grew up. Thirteen winced, House was right again.

Once Thirteen had let go of her fear of dying, she realized that Chase had always been there for her. Chase had started dating another woman but Thirteen managed to torpedo that relationship with one simple statement, "I made a mistake when I broke up with you." Three months later they were married in a small ceremony and eight months after the wedding, Charles had arrived.

House watched Charles, all pink and crinkled. He was dressed in a long white christening gown and was not happy that the priest was pouring water on his head. House smiled, the kid was wailing. Chase took the baby and calmed him down. The priest continued and within half an hour they were at the reception.

House wondered what his child looked like and whether the baby was healthy. It tortured him to know that the baby was out there, somewhere, without him. Sometimes he was so angry at Reagan for her stupidity that he didn't think he could ever forgive her. But every so often Mike would show up at House's door, have a beer and show House photos of blonde, white women living in Mexico. A couple of them had babies, some didn't. Whenever Mike showed up House immediately felt hopeful. Whenever Mike left, House plummeted like a boulder over a cliff. He had thought seriously about shutting off the money tap, telling Mike to stop looking. He had already spent over 50,000 on the investigation and there had been no joy. House couldn't believe that anyone could disappear just like that, but she had.

"Greg, I've gotta ask. We know she's in Mexico. We know she's not on the East coast of Mexico. I can name several towns and cities that she's not in, but that just means we have dozens to go. We know she'll stick to a town because she's not geared for the countryside, especially the countryside of a foreign country. But Greg, I feel guilty that we haven't gotten any closer. She's proven to be a formidable fugitive. If she had really been on the lam, I pity the detective trying to find her. The question is, when do we stop the hemorrhaging?"

House looked at him and said nothing at first. He rubbed his forehead and looked as if he was in pain. He was. He nodded, he knew it was time to stop searching. He knew it was time to file for the divorce, he knew it was time to let go of her. But how could he let go of his child?

"Let's cut back. Instead of an actual search, send her photo to all the Mexican Investigators you know, tell them we'll pay for any leads. In the meantime, you can pull off the guys who are actively looking for her."

"Have you considered that maybe ...maybe something happened to them? Maybe something happened during labor?"

"Boy, you're just full of pleasant thoughts tonight. Let me deal with one disappointment at a time. You can bring up their untimely deaths next time you come over." House said.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ...well you know."

"Yeah, I know."

The next morning House woke up and his leg was not just aching, but throbbing too. House popped two Vicodin and got up. By the time he got to work the pain was back to just a normal ache but he felt slow, unfocused. He didn't want to be at work and he didn't want to be at home. He didn't want to be conscious. He wanted to be floating somewhere, anywhere.

He sat down at his desk and looked at the photo of Reagan and him in Vegas. He picked the photo up and threw it into his bottom desk drawer. He straightened up and saw Wilson come through the door.

"Hey, I was thinking you might like to go to the new Tarantino movie? It opens tonight."

Wilson stopped, saw that he was particularly somber and noticed right away that the photo was gone. This was big. "What happened to the wedding photo on the desk?"'

"She's gone. I have to make room for the next photo, for the next woman to leave me."

"House, you know she didn't leave _you_. You know she loves you desperately."

"Yeah, she loves me so much that she hasn't even tried to contact me and let me know if I have a son or daughter." House switched on his computer. "Face it Wilson, I may not be the easiest man to fall in love with, but I am the easiest to leave."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 20**

Run For the Border

"She thinks she's protecting you and the baby."

"Right." He turned back to the monitor and clicked on his email. A photo popped up immediately. It was a photo of a freckled and very blonde Reagan with a blue eyed laughing baby trying to stand up in her lap. Reagan had the baby's arms outstretched and over his head to help him stand. House jumped back out of his chair screaming, "AHHHHGGG." He took several steps back, staring at the photo with such a pained look Wilson was worried he was going to collapse.

Wilson took a step around the desk to see what he was looking at and had to stifle his own scream of surprise. "Where did that come from?"

"I hit the email and it popped up."

"They look healthy." Wilson leaned in and looked carefully, "You apparently have a son. He's beautiful, gorgeous...look at those eyes."

House pulled the chair back and sat down, looking at the photo without expression, without saying anything. He looked numb to Wilson.

Thirteen came in and saw House staring at the computer, apparently zoned out, expressionless, "Are you okay?"

Wilson shook his head to indicate to Thirteen to let it go. Instead she looked at the screen, "Oh my God. When did she send that? The baby is adorable. What's his name?"

"We don't know; we don't know who sent it or why. House needs a moment, would you mind stepping out Thirteen?"

Thirteen left. House started dialing the phone.

"Who are you calling?" Wilson asked.

"When she left she wanted to leave me a phone message. She didn't want to talk to me so instead of calling me at home, she left a message at work. I'm calling my voice mail at home, just in case."

He went through the messages, one from his dentist, one from Wilson and then the voice. She sounded tentative, concerned, worried, "I sent you an email with a picture of Gregory. He was born June 1st. He's gorgeous, sweet and happy. I didn't know if I should send it, if it would make things worse...but I figure you can delete it if you want. I just wanted you to know that we're okay." Her voice started to tremble, "And I'm so sorry. There isn't a day that I don't wish I could go back and live that day over; do things differently. I hope you're sleeping through the night." Her voice went really soft, "Find someone who can give you those hugs and kisses you never would admit that you loved so much." And then she was gone.

Wilson could see from the pain in his friend's face that he had been right; that there was a message from Reagan. "What did she say?" House hit the repeat button and let him listen.

House closed his eyes and then looked again at the photo. He saved the photo to one file. He cropped the photo and saved the cropped image to a separate file. He had cropped out Reagan and just kept the baby. He printed it out and taped it to the wall behind his computer. He wanted to memorize his face.

That afternoon he called Mike. Mike brought in a forensic computer expert to try and locate the origin of the email. There wasn't much to get off of the phone message, there was no way to trace it. The noises in the background didn't sound any different than the noises he heard sitting in his apartment.

House was both excited and desperate. The fact that he had a son, they were healthy and happy, meant a lot. Some of his worry had dissipated, but now he felt like he was back to square one, back to the feelings he had when she had bolted. The only thing he could do was to numb it with whiskey, his piano, and his Vicodin.

He laid down on his couch fingering the photo he had printed after he had stopped and bought some photo paper. She must be somewhere sunny, her face was so freckled and her hair so light, bleached by the sun. The bulk of her hair was in two braided pig tails that just barely hung over her shoulder. She wasn't wearing makeup and she was dressed in a peasant's top with a little string gathering the blouse around her shoulder.

__

The baby looks nothing like her. His hair is too brown, not blonde like hers. He's so cute, that laugh takes up his whole face. He looks so damn funny with just those two teeth showing. His cheeks are round and pink, healthy. He has, what was it my Mom said? A cupid's bow for a mouth, just like me. God, those are my eyes, blue, large and, of course, intelligent. Gregory is sure trying hard to stand in his mother's lap. I wish I could see his feet, they were cut off at the bottom. I guess the photographer was trying to get close enough to capture their faces more than their bodies. Gregory. Not very imaginative. I didn't want him named after me and she knew it. Well, she got her way, as usual.

House and Wilson were just about ready to go to the play when the phone rang in House's apartment. "Hello?"

"Greg, it's Mike. We've got something."

"What?"

"Dublin, California. The email came from Dublin."

Then it hit him, Sadie. She was in communication with Sadie. "From the Federal Prison?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"She has a friend in prison, Sadie Thompson, the famous madam."

"I'll get someone on it."

"No, I need to talk to her. She won't talk or believe you. I can get her to believe and talk to me."

House flew to Oakland and drove a rental car to Dublin. Reagan had been right, there was minimum security and it looked more like a campus with dormitories than a prison. House waited for Sadie in the waiting room. He was surprised when she walked in. She was dressed in khakis with her shirt buttoned to the top. She was probably 40 and very beautiful, even without makeup and fancy clothes. Without even trying she walked towards him with a panther-like grace.

"Dr. House, I'd recognize you anywhere. Those eyes are as beautiful as in the photos. How can I help you?"

"Thank you for meeting with me. I've had a rough year or so. Reagan thinks she's on the lam, running from authorities, but she isn't. She thought she killed Robert Jakes by stopping his medicine and turning off the medical equipment. But the equipment and drugs she disconnected were for palliative care only. Jakes was dying from liver failure, there was nothing more the doctors could do. Even if the measures weren't just palliative, I saw her come out of the patient's room and went in to see why she had been in there. I saw what she had done and started it all back up within minutes. She didn't kill him, there are no charges, never will be. You can convince her, she'll believe you. Do a web search for Robert Jakes, you won't see any mention of suspicious death or suspected foul play. The guy died naturally.

She ran for no reason and I've spent 50,000 trying to find her and the baby. I know she sent you the photo and asked you to send it to me two days ago. Please, please, I can't live like this. I worry about her every day. If she won't come home and live in Princeton, I'll go anywhere she wants and live there. I just need to know where she is. She needs to know that she and my son can come home."

Sadie listened, not without sympathy. She saw a man who had lived hard and appeared to be in pain. He wasn't easy on himself or the world. But he was desperate. He clearly loved Reagan and his son and wanted them home. If he was right, then Reagan had made a horrible mistake and had dragged this poor man into a nightmare that probably seemed to him to never end. Sadie was a good judge of character and this man wasn't lying. Reagan had screwed up.

"Dr. House, I'll tell you everything I know. She called me from San Antonio and told me what she had thought she had done. It was all said in code because our conversations are taped, but I knew she had killed the man who had framed her, or so she thought. She had hopped freights from Washington D.C. Imagine a pregnant woman hopping freights in the middle of winter," she stopped and shook her head. "She told me she was going to go somewhere warm that she had been to when she was in college. She never told me the actual city but I know from our previous discussions that she has been to Acapulco, Puerto Vallarta and Manzanillo. I'd start with them. She sent me the photo by email just asking me to send the photo only at a specific date and time.

The email address I recognized as a relay address, it's not hers. She sent me a letter using a relay mail station in Mexico somewhere, no return address. I threw the envelope away. You can have the letter, I don't know if your investigator can get anything from it. I do know she loves you. I know she was happy when you two were married in Vegas. I know you're a lucky man, she's an incredible human being and I love her like a sister. I hope you find her and bring her home. I get out in two months. Give me your telephone number and I'll contact you if I hear anything. Little Greg is gorgeous isn't he?"

House smiled sadly, "He looks like I did as a baby."

"Well big Greg is gorgeous too," she winked.

House actually blushed. "Are you flirting with me? You know I'm a married man and my wife is the jealous type."

She just laughed and handed him the letter. "Good luck Greg, tell her to come see me when she comes home."

"Thanks Sadie, I will."

House took the letter and went outside to the parking lot, got into the rental car and read it,

_Dear Sadie,_

_I screwed up royally, didn't I? I can't believe what I've done. Worst of all, I've hurt my husband deeply and may never get the chance to make it right for him. I told him to divorce me so he can move on, but how can he move on when I'm sitting here nursing his son? The son he hasn't met. My husband can be an ass but he's surprisingly committed to the people he loves and I know he loves me and he wanted to be a father. I've taken that away from him and every time I look at Gregory my heart aches. Greg probably hates me and I wouldn't blame him one bit if he never forgives me._

_I live in a cute little house, not fancy, but enough for Gregory (the neighbors call him Gregorio and I call him Greggy) and me. I had to make a living and I couldn't find a job. I was getting desperate, running out of money fast and about to be evicted. It was so bad I was using regular diapers because I couldn't afford disposable ones. My neighbors were kind and watched Gregorio while I went to look for a job. They tend to dote on him because of his blue eyes, they're just like his father's. I wasn't eating much, I was so stressed and so my milk slowed and I was having a hard time nursing. Greggy was having a hard time getting full. I was ready to do whatever it took to make money so that I could find a nice place and my son could eat._

_I went down to the tourist area. There is a brothel for the high ranking Mexican officials and Mexican tourists down by the ocean. I met with the manager, but he didn't think I had enough meat on my bones for his Mexican clientele. I told him I wasn't looking to be a prostitute but could help him with his paperwork. He didn't need clerical help, but he did need a waitress and a cleaner. I got the job and so far it's worked out well. I work from 7:00 pm to 3 am, Monday through Saturday. On Sunday it's closed but I go in and wash the patio floors in the afternoon for extra money. I don't get much sleep but it lets me be with Gregorio while he is awake. Gregorio can walk now and he babbles. Occasionally he says Mama, agua, leche, banana and several other words. I speak English to him but, of course, Spanish is his first language._

_I am going to send you a photo by email with instructions on what to do with it. In the meantime, I know you're getting out of jail soon so congratulations! I'll try you at your yahoo address next time._

_Lots of Love, Reagan_

House was glad to hear that she wasn't a hooker. But it was good to know that she was working at a brothel in either Manzanillo, Puerto Vallarta or Alcapulco. That should help Mike narrow things down considerably. House was feeling optimistic for the first time in over a year.

Mike went to work on the new information. He hired an investigator in each city. Late one gorgeous Saturday in May, House was lamenting the fact that he was indoors working with the team on a patient. He had just stopped whining when Mike stuck his face into the office. He had a brown envelope and he was smiling.

"Dr. House, when you have a minute I need to talk to you. We've found her."

The team all jumped up, looked at House then looked at Mike and then back to House. House looked at them, "Well, scoot, you guys all have tests to run now."

"But we want to know where she is." Chase said.

"It's none of your bloody business."

"She's our friend too." Foreman said. "This patient is stable, come on House. Don't be a jerk."

House smirked and then nodded for Mike to come in. He handed House an envelope. "Take a look."

House opened the envelope and there were four photographs. The very first one almost made his knees buckle. It showed Reagan in a peasant blouse and a skirt down on her knees with a scrub brush in one hand. It was taken from her profile and she's laughing, with her arms outstretched to a little toddler, about six feet away, who's trying to balance himself with his arms up in the air and a big laughing grin on his little face. He's obviously trying to run to her.

House handed the photo to Foreman who shared it with the other two. Masters spoke up, "Oh, that's so sweet. He's so cute. They look so happy and normal. It's just a photo of a Mom playing with her baby."

The second photo, taken just moments later, showed Reagan sitting on the floor with the baby in her lap, both of them looking at a set of keys that the baby was trying to put into his mouth. The next one showed her walking through the market with the baby on her hip. The last one was a shot from behind her with the baby's head peering over her shoulder at the camera. The shot was a tight one on the baby and there was no mistaking those blue eyes.

As House went through them he let out a little chuckle, enjoying not only the fact that they looked healthy but that they had found them. He handed the rest of them to Foreman and then looked at Mike, "Where are they?"

"Puerto Vallarta."

"Tell the guy to back off, give me the information but I don't want her scared away."

"Gotcha."

Everyone was shocked to see House actually give Mike a strong handshake and pat on the shoulder in thanks. He turned to the team. "You guys are going to have to figure this one out. I'm going to Puerto Vallarta to get my son...and wife."

They looked at each other and shrugged. He assured them that he would carry his cell phone but this patient wasn't dying, just in a lot of pain. So he grabbed his things and went next door to Wilson's office. He threw the photos on the desk and Wilson jumped up when he saw the first one.

"Where?"

"Puerto Vallarta."

"She looks gorgeous as usual and the kid isn't half bad either."

"I'm on my way to Mexico, can you babysit?"

"Sure. Good luck. Give her my love."

House nodded and then went to see Cuddy who was more than happy to give him the time off. House got on his motorcycle and went home excited and anxious. He booked a round trip first class ticket to Puerto Vallarta and a single first class ticket back.

The plane left at 7:05 p.m. and arrived around 1:00 am. Once he got through customs and checked into Hacienda San Miguel, a very special hotel sitting above the city in the hills. He was given the keys to his room, the San Miguel Suite. He entered the room, tipped the bellboy and looked around. The suite had a king size bed and panoramic views of the town and bay. He opened the large folding french doors to the patio where there was a sitting area just outside the bedroom with its own jacuzz. It was a beautiful room. He turned, went back inside and noticed that above the bed was a 1920s copy of the famous Monja Coronada from the main cathedral in Guadalajara. But House was too excited to stay still. She would be home by now, wherever home was. The investigator said that occasionally on Sundays she would wash the floors in the brothel. She would get there around 1 pm and leave around 3 pm. He had the address in his wallet.

He tried laying down and watching satellite television, but he couldn't concentrate. He thought maybe he should have some whiskey but he didn't want to be hung over. He finally decided to go downstairs where he found a piano. He played until he was sleepy and then at 5:00 am he went up to bed with a wakeup call at 11:30 am.

The phone woke him and he thanked the operator for the wake-up call. He showered and changed into some walking shorts and a bright tropical shirt with a t-shirt underneath. He grabbed his sunglasses and ballcap and started out the door.

Downstairs, House found a cab and gave the driver the address, "Veinte-ocho Calle de la Revolucion." The driver recognized the address of the brothel.

The driver looked back at House in the rear view mirror. "Mister? You do know it is closed on Sundays? If you still need the company of a woman I could give you a phone number."

"No thank you. I'm meeting my wife there."

This confused the driver, but he simply shrugged and kept driving. After tipping the man, House got out of the cab and looked at the club that was three stories. On Revolucion you entered from street level onto the second floor. The street slopped downwards in the back where the patios were. The club appeared dark but House went around to the back, to where the main, second story patio overlooked the ocean. The tables and chairs on the patio had been cleared off to the side and there was a bucket of water, a sponge and a mop. His heart started beating wildly. She had to be here. He looked around but didn't see her. He put his nose up against the window panes but didn't see anyone inside, just more tables and chairs around a dance floor and a small stage with a piano.

But then he heard a voice from the steps leading up to the patio from what must be the lower patio, "Wait for Mommy." There was a pause and then an even more frantic, "Greggy, I told you to wait for me!"

He watched as a little head and body appeared at the top of the stairs. He realized now why everyone commented on his blue eyes. His son's eyes were mesmerizing. Balancing on his cane, he knelt down and put his arms out for his son. Without hesitation, he ran towards House laughing and smiling. "Damn, boy, you're trusting. Just be careful when you're in college and I ask to borrow your girlfriend." His little body careened into House, sending House over onto his butt and laughing. The toddler jumped onto his father, knee firmly in his groin, "Ahhhg. Greg...that hurt."

House looked up and saw her climbing quickly, searching for her errant child. Her mouth dropped as she saw her son tackling her husband. Her feet hit the patio at the top of the stairs just as House managed to kneel again, but not for long. She tackled him too, knocking him and her son back into a heap. She was smothering House with kisses and hugs as House tried to look at her, but all he could see were lips coming at his eyes, nose, lips, cheeks. He started giggling as his son tried to copy his mother and started kissing him on the right side of his face.

"Okay, okay, I get it, you want me to leave."

She had the biggest smile on her face. She looked at Greggy and pointed at House, "Greggy, this is Daddy!" She pointed down at House who now lay prostrate on the patio tile, "Daddy, Padre, Papa! Daddy!"

The little boy squealed, "Papa."

"Daddy." He picked him up and held him suspended over his chest. "I prefer Daddy."

"Oh, God. Does this mean that the police know where I am?"

"They don't care where you are, they never have. You're not wanted for anything. Robert Jakes died of liver failure, you had nothing to do with it." He was trying to sit up. Once he was sitting and stable he grabbed the baby. He held him steady while he looked him over, like a valuable trophy. He turned to her, gave her a stern stare, "You screwed up, you made a mess of it all. What the hell were you thinking?"

She couldn't meet his eyes, she looked down guiltily, "You're telling me that he died that afternoon, but I had nothing to do with it? But I turned off his respirator, I stopped his medicine."

"You're not a doctor, you're an idiot. If you want to kill someone, stick to something you know like shanks or guns. The medicine and ventilator were just making him comfortable, he was dying anyway. Besides, I saw you playing Florence Nightingale and so I went into his room after you left, hooked him back up, started his medicine and left. He hadn't been off of anything long enough for you to kill him."

"Oh God, he won. He took another eighteen months from me. He took away the joy of having you with me when our son was born. He keeps taking my life away."

"No, he didn't do that. YOU DID." There was no way he was going to let her off the hook. She had made him miserable over the last eighteen months and he was going to make sure that she learned her lesson. He turned back to his son who was staring at him, trying to grab his nose. "Hey dude, I need that nose." He buried his face against the toddler's cheek and neck, then blew into it creating a farting noise that cause the baby to giggle and squeal again.

House handed the baby to her so that he could get up. He pulled himself up and she stood up with him. The baby stood next to his mother and looked at the cane with curiosity. House looked at Reagan who was teary and sad. He had taken her from sheer happiness to pure hell in less than five minutes. Now he felt guilty. He had looked forward to this moment for so long and he had done what he does best, screwed it up.

He grabbed her in his arms and kissed her. He kissed her sweetly, the kiss of a husband who loves his wife dearly. He wanted her to know that he did forgive her, that he loved her and was happy to have his family back. "I can't believe I found you. I've been looking for you for so long. I thought this day would never come." He touched her cheek, "Let's get out of here."

"I have to clean this floor before I go. I promised Juan. He's been very good to me, I don't want to leave him with a job undone."

"Oh, come on Reagan, a dirty floor for one day won't cause any..." he stopped short. He knew it was useless from the look on her face. "Okay, I'll sit here and get to know my son."

House sat down and watched as she mopped the floor and occasionally got down on her knees on the saltillo tile and scrubbed hard until some mess finally came up. When she stood up he could see her knees were scraped and calloused from the months of hard cleaning. Her hands were calloused and cracked from the detergents she used. He thought of her working on her knees to make ends meet and he felt relieved that he could take her home.

House watched Greggy crawl on his mother's back, trying to get her to play horsey. House pulled him off and tossed him in the air to Greggy's delight. He asked Reagan, "Is there an ice cream shop nearby?"

She stopped, tucked a loose strand of hair back over her ear and said, "Down the street about two blocks going south. You better take a towel to tuck in his shirt if you're going to give that monster ice cream. Otherwise, it will be all over him." She walked over to her stack of cleaning things and threw House a clean dishtowel.

He nodded and they took off down the street, hand in hand. Greggy was as slow as his father because he loved to watch everyone and everything. House was surprised when a man stopped them on the street, "Who are you?"

"None of your business."

"Yes it is. I'm Officer Melendez. It's my day off but you've got Gregorio and I don't see his mother. Who are you?"

"Look at the kid's eyes. Look at mine. Who do you think I am?" House picked Greggy up in his arms and gave the cop a silly smile.

There was no mistaking that their eyes were the same. "Are you Gregorio's father?"

"Yes." House realized that no one knew Reagan was married. "Reagan is my wife. I've come to collect them. It's time for them to come home."

Now the cop was suspicious again. Why would Reagan not tell them about a husband unless she was running from him. He was probably abusive. "Does Reagan want to go home with you? Does she know you have Gregorio?"

"Yes she wants to go home." It dawned on House what he must be thinking. "She didn't leave because of me. She left because of other problems. Look, she's back at the club down there cleaning the patio, go ask her."

The cop let him go but House knew that he was going to go straight to Reagan. He was obviously single and must have had a crush on Reagan. House had to pick up Greggy because he was starting to pull away and wanted to run on the busy street. Luckily, House was only a few doors from the ice cream parlor. They went inside and everyone turned to look at them.

The lady behind the counter searched House's face. She came around from behind the counter, bent down and smiled and said in Spanish, "Gregorio, where is your mother and who is this?"

House was getting frustrated. He gave an adolescent look of frustration and said in Spanish, "I am Gregorio's father. I am Reagan's husband. I love my wife and son. I am not beating them. I came to take them home. Now can I have some ice cream?"

House took the little ice cream dish and fed his son the ice cream and laughed at how much Greggy was enjoying it. As soon as one spoon was gone, Greggy was opening his mouth for the next.

After they were done, House took his son to a toy shop and they bought a plastic truck for him to play with. When they got back to the club Reagan was almost done. She looked at the truck and smiled. "Oh, Daddy's spoiling you already!" She turned to House, "Want a beer?"

"Sure."

She went inside, got him a beer and grabbed herself a water.

"I was stopped by the entire city of Puerto Vallarta asking me if I was an evil pervert come to take your child off to molest him. I said yes."

"I know, Officer Melendez and Lydia both stopped by and asked me what you were doing with my son. I've always felt safe here. Officer Melendez sometimes gives me a ride home when I get off at 3:00 am. He doesn't like me walking home that late without an escort."

"He's got the hots for you."

"Yeah, I know." Reagan smiled at him and wiggled her hips.

She finished up and left Juan a note, telling him that she was leaving. She grabbed her stuff from the back, stuffed it in a plastic bag and joined House and Greggy. "Well, shall we go back to the house so I can get Mr. Nuisance changed and cleaned up?"

"Great."

"Uh, it's two miles from here and I don't have money for a taxi. We usually walk."

"Mi dinero es tu dinero. Let's grab a taxi."

They sat in the back, House with his arm around Reagan, Greggy still jumping up and down, climbing on everything. "He's a handful. Have you thought about drugs?"

"Yeah, I was thinking on starting him on Vicodin. Got any?"

House smiled. There was so much he wanted to know and share with her. He realized that for the first time in over a year he didn't feel anxious or worried. That gripping feeling around his heart was gone and his leg was better. He looked at Reagan and kissed her cheek.

"You're in for a treat." she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"What?"

"Well, he normally takes his nap around 2:00 pm, but on Sundays, he takes it a little late and so he sleeps a little longer because he's tired. He'll sleep about an hour, maybe hour and a half."

"Houston, we have lift off." House already felt something inside him stirring and stiffening. He had to think of something different. He looked at the scenery. "Did you like living down here?"

"I love it. It feels like home to me. The people have been so generous and helpful. I don't know if I could have made it without my neighbors. It would have been nicer if I had more money. I seemed to do nothing but work."

"Why didn't you take more money out of the ATM when you ran?"

"I figured if I took just a 1,000 it would send you a message that I wasn't trying to rip you off."

"Rip your husband off? We were married, the money was yours moron."

"We'd only been married four months, I felt strange about taking it."

They drove out to a neighborhood that had homes facing small streets and alleyways. He did notice there were lots of Pepper trees, Podocarpus and Jacaranda, adding a sense of age and permanency to the neighborhood. The people here were poor but took pride in their homes. They got out of the taxi at the intersection of a street and a small alleyway. He walked with her down the gravel alleyway and then into a courtyard with four little homes surrounding it. She opened the one on the east side and stepped inside. House and Greggy followed.

House was shocked. His wife and son had been living in a room no bigger than 12 x 15, complete with a little kitchenette. The floors were covered with a worn black and white linoleum. The bathroom was just a little bit bigger than one you'd find in a trailer. There was one window on the east wall and a small one over the kitchen sink. The house was clean but that was mostly because there were very few clothes and even less toys. It was a stark contrast to what his son would have in the United States.

He watched as Reagan wrestled with their son to get him cleaned up. She was going to put him down in the crib in the corner but he kept grasping at her breast and was starting to get cranky and whinny.

"Okay, okay."

She pulled the string on top of the peasant blouse and it loosened. She pulled it down over the left breast and held him so that he could nurse. House sat at the table watching her and thinking of all the months he had missed when he could have been with them.

"So you're still nursing him?"

"They recommended nursing until two. Do you think that's too long?"

"Right now, seeing your breast, nothing seems wrong at all. I could care less. Well, if he's still suckling at thirty I might have a problem."

"So will I. He's already trying his teeth out on occasion."

Greggy started to fall asleep. She quickly changed breasts so he could drain it a little. He sucked a few minutes and then was out like a light. She took him over and put him in his crib. She looked down at him and then over at House, "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

He chuckled, "Mothers."

"I need a shower badly, I've been sweating."

"Oh, that's an aphrodisiac. Sweating? Let me lick a little off of you, come here."

She went over and he patted his good leg. She sat down and put her arms around his neck. The string to her blouse was still lose, revealing her cleavage. He pulled one side of the blouse off the shoulder and exposed her breast. He kissed and licked it, "God, you are salty, tasty. No showers yet, you smell like a mixture of woman and ammonia. It's a real turn on. Let's go over to that bed."

She went over to the bed and took the top off completely. House pushed her down on the bed and continued to kiss her breasts and fondle them. He looked at them; how different they were now. Still round and pert, but fuller on the bottom, larger and the areolas were larger, the nipples firm and tough. They were beautiful, womanly.

He played with them, first with his fingers pinching the gently and then with his tongue circling them. He finally began sucking them and was surprised that there was still a little milk left. It was strangely sweet. He went back to licking them and then raised up to her lips. She started to take his pants off.

"You take your skirt off, I'll take care of my pants." He said to her.

She stood up and so did he. They both dropped their pants. House revealed the stiffest hard on she had ever encountered. "Wow. Are you just happy to see me?"

She pulled back the cover on the bed and climbed on top of the sheets. "Fuck me Greg."

"Christ, don't say things like that. I'll lose it right here. I'm just barely hanging on."

She pulled down her panties and when he saw the patch of light pubic hair that was it.

"Oh God, open your legs, quick."

He was coming without even entering her. When he got inside he cried out, "Ahhh, Oh God, Ahhhhhhhhh." It was so quick that when he was done she got the giggles.

"What are you laughing at? Can't you see I'm humiliated here?"

"I just realized that you've been faithful to me and I can't believe it."

"No one would have me."

"Pam would have sent someone who would have had you."

"Jesus Reagan, I'm married. Did you think I'd just give up on you, the baby and go out screwing anything that moved?"

"No, but it was a really long time to stay celibate."

"Oh, I had Rosie Palm and that little video of you masturbating."

"That's right! I forgot to erase that at work. I'm guessing it's all over the internet by now."

He laughed and grabbed her. House French kissed her and continued to touch every inch of her body, looking at the changes brought on by giving birth. Her pelvic bones were wider apart, her hips rounder, her abdomen not as flat. She wasn't as tight, but still tighter than most. She was softer. Her body was more comforting, welcoming. He liked the changes.

"You're beautiful. I missed you."

"Missed me or my yoo-hoo?"

"Is there a difference?" He said. batting his eyes.

They laid in each other's arms and talked for a few minutes about her great escape. Catching the freight train, crossing the border, her new job. He looked at her hands, all chapped, cracked and calloused and winced. They represented all her efforts to keep her son safe and he wanted to slap her upside her head for doing this to herself. Still, there was something so brutally honest and loving in the condition of those hands that he was moved.

She got up and brought a glass of water to the bed. "Let me have some," he said.

"No. I'm used to the water here but you aren't. You'll get really sick. I'll get you a coke."

She got up and got him a coke and he had a sip, laid back down with his hands under his head and was staring up at the cracked ceiling. She ran her hand down his chest; feeling the familiar hair and skin. She smiled and kept going, down the side of his thigh into his groin. She played gently with his balls. He closed his eyes. She reached down and took his penis in her hand and gently began to lick it, over and over. Then she sucked and sucked until he was hard again. She didn't want him coming too soon so she switched to her hand, gently tugging up and down to keep him interested but not enough for him to come. He turned to her and she pushed him back down. She straddled him and then guided him inside of her. He watched all of this, getting harder as he saw her ride up and down for her own pleasure. He reached down and started playing with her little cl!toris, rubbing it in rhythm with her up and down motion.

He could see his penis disappear inside of her each time she came down. He looked up and saw her eyes closed as she concentrated, her breasts bouncing up and down. She soon fell over him, her breasts dangling above his chest. He began speeding up the stroking of her cl!t. She was breathing hard, quickly. He kept wanting to grab her breasts as they dangled and danced over him. She caught her breath and whispered, "Oh God, yeah, yeah...Fuck, oh ...oh Greg. OH, OOOHH.. more, more. Yes, that's it. Ohhh. God." The contractions were coming fast and hard. Her vagina was clamping down over and over. Just as the last waves crashed through her he started to come, thrusting hard and quick into her, faster and faster. He swallowed a couple of times and realized that he was having a hard time focusing. Everything was blurry and the only thing his body could concentrate on was his penis inside of her. He could feel the release of the ejaculation each time he gave a short thrust. He was done, he was tired. She pulled off of him and grabbed a Kleenex as the semen dripped onto his abdomen. She mopped him up and threw the Kleenex over near the trash can. She rolled over to hug and hold him. He smiled and held her to him, falling asleep in their embrace.

Later on as he drifted in and out of sleep, he heard something. House opened his eyes and saw two blue eyes staring back from the other side of the room. He looked at his wife, her nude body curled in his and knew that he was going to have to wake her if he got up to get Greggy. He tried to untangle himself but he was right, she opened her eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"We're being watched. Do you think seeing his parents in a post-coital sleep will scar him for the rest of his life?"

"I don't know. Did you do something to me while I was asleep?"

"I don't think so."

"Then all he knows is that his parents shucked their clothes to cool down. He sees me nude all the time." Reagan shrugged when House wiggled his eyebrows, "Hard not to in a small room like this. He hasn't complained yet. I figure when he runs screaming and yelling at me to put my clothes back on that I'm safe. So now what?"

"We get our asses out of town. I have a hotel room. Let's pack your things and get you over there."

"I don't have any luggage and it's Sunday evening. We won't be able to buy a suitcase until tomorrow. Plus, I'm hungry."

"Okay, get dressed, we'll spend the night at the hotel, in the morning we'll buy some luggage, come back over and pack. Our flight leaves at 7:00p.m."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"Wow, what a difference a day makes-24 little hours." Reagan said to no one.

House diverted Greggy's attention while Reagan packed several plastic bags full of things and his diaper bag to take back to the hotel. She looked around, feeling a little sad about leaving and then closed the door. House saw how attached she was to her little home and the people here and it made him nervous.

The taxi driver looked over the seat at House for his directions. "Hacienda San Miguel."

He sat back and looked at Reagan who was looking a little stunned. "What?" he asked.

"Hacienda San Miguel? I filled in for Lucinda one day and cleaned some of their rooms. My God! 600 a night for a room? I could have given my neighbors that money and they would have..." She shut up. She realized that before she had to scrub floors and work her fingers to the bone she had no concept of what it meant to be really poor. Oh, she knew what it felt like not to have a job, but she could have gone back to California and lived with her Aunt if she had wanted. It was no use. House would never change anyway.

"My money is being spent here. The owners pay cleaners, bell hops, night clerks, chefs, maintenance men, gas, electric and stimulate the economy in all kinds of way with my 600 a night. So chill."

They arrived and when she walked into the room she giggled. It was nice to be staying somewhere with a nice bed. She looked at the bathroom, the room and the veranda and figured it was twice the size of her house.

House went into the bathroom and she could hear the bath water running. He came out, started to take off his shirt and was sitting in his t-shirt and shorts. "I'm drawing you a bath. You go take one and relax until the food gets here. I'll play with the 800 lb. Gorilla."

"A bath? Actually lay in a bath and soak?"

"I figure you deserve one. What do you want to eat?"

"A carne asada salad, fresh rolls, a glass of orange juice and anything chocolate. Get some orange juice and bananas for the gorilla."

Soaking in the tub was glorious. She could hear squealing and growling noises so she knew House was playing and tickling Greggy. She got up and grabbed a towel when she heard the knock on the door. She really was hungry.

They ate on the veranda and House seemed to enjoy feeding Greggy. The view took in most of the shoreline and the tile roofs of the city. She could see the bell towers of the Catholic Churches and she knew she would miss it.

House saw her wistful look and felt nervous, "You do want to go home, don't you?"

"Or course I do. But I wish I could stay too."

House nodded. "It's beautiful. I've always enjoyed Mexico. To think our son is a wetback." He looked at her and his eyes widened. It just dawned on him that his son did not have an American birth certificate and until he was registered with the American Embassy and had papers, he could not cross the border, at least by plane. "Christ! You didn't register him at the embassy, did you? He doesn't have a passport."

She turned white, "No. I didn't want them to know where we were. Oh God Greg, I'm sorry."

"You moron...we're going to have to register him tomorrow."

"But do you have our marriage certificate with you?"

"No. Oh God, that's right. We have to prove we're married and that he's my son so we can take him out of the country. That's going to take weeks."

House was angry again. Reagan was suppose to have registered her son at the American Embassy and get an American, "Certificate of Birth in Foreign Country." She could register him with just her passport and his birth certificate, but he couldn't leave the country until they could prove the father was an American or that she had permission of the father for the baby to leave. That was to prevent mothers from stealing their babies from their Mexican fathers. House would have to have their marriage certificate Fed Exed to them, but even then it would take a week or two to process the paperwork.

"I'll have Wilson get the Marriage Certificate and send it to us. Hopefully he can find it because I don't know how to contact the Clark County registrar in Nevada from down here. We'll go register him and then I'll go back to Princeton and once you have the documents, you and the little wetback can fly home. I guess we better find you a hotel."

"The rent on my house is paid up for three weeks. Why do I need a hotel?"

"You're going to go back to that hovel?"

"Yes, we've been very happy in that hovel. In the meantime, you better buy baby furniture for when I get home."

The next day they took the baby to the American Embassy, an unimpressive white stucco office building. They had no problems registering Greggy. However, for his American birth certficate to be issues they wanted their marriage certificate.

They went back to the hotel to put Greggy down for his nap. The phone rang. House didn't want to pick it up but it had to be important or they wouldn't be getting a call. It was Wilson, "Did you ...uhhh...find it?" House picked up the sheet and gave Reagan a look of desperation. He covered the receiver, "Go slow until I'm done here, please?" She smiled up at him and then began licking the rim of his penis. He shuddered.

"I had a hard time finding it but I finally found that box. It's on its way. But I'm calling on another problem. Your team is working on a referral from the Emergency room and we're all baffled."

House was floating in and out of the conversation. He realized he could'nt get head and give a consult at the same time. He made a decision. "I'll call you back in five minutes." He hung up and laid back until there was a very happy conclusion. Reagan got up and went into the bathroom, came back with some toilet paper and then went back in to clean up. The baby was asleep on the other side of the bed.

House called Wilson back. Things were looking grim for the patient. He booked the earliest flight he could get, one for the following evening. House was worried about Reagan. She really seemed attached to the town and the people in Puerto Vallarta and he was afraid she wouldn't get on a plane and come home. He knew he had to trust her, because he had no choice. He was even more nervous when he discovered that Reagan had her bank wire her 25,000 from her trust account.

"Why do you need all that money while you're down here if you're coming home in a week?"

"Because I want to buy some things for the baby. This is where he was born you know."

The documents arrived and they went to the embassy. They returned with his certificate of registration, but not the passport or birth certificate. They would take a week at least. They had put it on a rush order, paying extra to get it processed. The certificate looked impressive with gold seals and pink ribbons encircling it. Reagan put it in the new leather portfolio they had purchased for all of their documentation.

House rode in the taxi with her to the little house, gave her and the baby a kiss and took off for the airport. Reagan was moved when she saw House's head turn in the back of the cab as he watched the two of them until he was out of sight. Reagan turned, entered the house and started to pack into the new luggage. Greggy was running around like a banshee. She already missed House's help.

Reagan realized that as an American citizen, she could not own real estate in Mexico outright, but her son, a Mexican National, could. She went to Miguel de San Allende and spoke to him. The little houses around the courtyard were worth 15,000 at most. She offered him 20,000 if he would sell it to Greggy. Miguel was short on cash from betting too much on the Mexican soccer games. He took her up on the very generous offer. The next day she went to a lawyer who set up a trust for Greggy and transferred title of the house into the trust a week later.

Reagan asked Lydia if she and her husband would take care of the house. They could rent it out and keep the income if they did. They promised to take care of it. "I'll be back at least once a year to check on it, so please let the renter know I might call in from time to time."

Reagan felt good. She had secured a little piece of Puerto Vallarta for her son. He could do whatever he wanted with it when he got older, but it was his. She packed up their few possessions. She left the furniture for whoever moved in but did give the crib away. She packed their clothes and toys in the titanium backpack frame and the suitcase they bought. On the day the documents arrived, she booked a flight back to Philadelphia for the following evening. She called House. They had talked every day since he had returned, sometimes twice a day. He seemed edgy, very nervous about her coming home. He wanted every detail of her itinerary. She could tell he would not be happy until she was safely back in Princeton.

The next day she took a taxi to the airport, gave her son some Benadryl to make him sleep on the flight, and flew home to USA. They had a layover in Dallas and then the final leg into Philly. They were circling Philadelphia as a very unhappy Greggy was wailing from the pressure in his ears as they started to descend. Reagan quickly pulled up her blouse and unlatched the bra so he could nurse. The swallowing action caused his ears to pop and he calmed down. By the time she got off the plane he was asleep again. She had gone through customs in Dallas so all she had to do was find House and get her luggage. She looked at her watch, 7:30 am. She walked out of the secured area looking tired and haggard, carrying a diaper bag and a shoulder bag. At first she didn't see him, but she did see Cuddy, Wilson, Masters, Taub, Chase and Thirteen. Foreman was at the hospital holding down the fort. House was over by the water fountain getting a drink. He looked up and saw his tired wife, his sleeping son and the cheering mini-crowd and felt the anxiety of the last few weeks melt away.

He walked over as Reagan was handing Cuddy the sleeping toddler. He smiled at Reagan and said, "Do I know you?"

"God I hope so or I've just lugged all this crap here for nothing."

He reached his arms around her and kissed her on the mouth, took one of the bags and walked towards the baggage carousel. Everyone was asking a thousand questions and all House could think of was whether they should wake Greggy so he'd be willing to take a long nap this afternoon. They had a lot of catching up to do.

The End


End file.
